
Class J£^lill^ 

Rnnic , fill. 5-7 



COPyRIGHT DEPOSrr 



Jffiir tl|P 

CIipMuI or ^ai. 

...ig... 

Waltpr i. I^alilpa. 




RICHARD BYLSMA 

PRINTER AND PUBLISHER 

78 JENNETTE ST., COR- TENTH GRAND RAPIDS. MICH. 



,0,06) 



COPYRIGHT 1909 
BY 

WALTER B. HADLEY & RICHARD BYLSMA. 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 

Two CoDies Received 

MAY 14 1909 

CLASS C^ XXc No, 



CONTENTS 



Rage 

My Mirror 7 

An Urn of Ashes 8 

Time 9 

The House of Many Mansions 10 

Wlhen Satan Smiles 11 

Sometime 12 

At the Mystic Gate 13 

The Strap that Father Wore 14 

Our Darling Baby 15 

At Grandfather's Grocery 16 

When Auntie Goes Calling 18 

Mysielf and I 19 

When Father had the Blues 20 

Come and See Us 21 

The Bravest Boy I Know 2^ 

In the Foothills 24 

The Troubles of Goebal Guack 25 

Go It Alone 26 

The Man That's Come to Stay 27 

A Feast in Dreamland 27 

Don't Cry 28 

A Quiet Country ?Jome 29 

The Place 1 Love Best 30 

The Song of the Winds 31 

I Wonder Why 32 

Carry Me Back 33 

Mystery 34 

A Night's. Carousal 35 

My Mary Jane 36 

W' hen Hubby Comes Home With a Jag 37 

Long Ago 37 



CONTENTS. 

I'm Living Alone for You 38 

Grim Death 39 

Sweet Rest 40 

What Might Have Been 40 

The Maid of the Mist 41 

Grandma Cat 42 

Where Are They From? 43 

The Lasit Old Tree 44 

The Pioneer's Lament 45 

Love Me Once ^ylore as of Old 46 

A Fatal Mistake 47 

Before and After 48 

The Frogtown Gossip 50 

The Great Unknown 51 

When the Parson Sta3^ed to Tea 52 

The Darwinite's Dream 53 

At Bletcher's Mill 54 

Gossip 55 

From A to Z 56 

When a Woman Says She Won't 58 

My Sister's Beau 60 

Poor Little Babv 61 

W%at Do We Know? 62 

Habit 63 

On the Banks of Fan Claire 64 

Stop and Think 65 

The Parson's Cow 66 

Alone 67 

The Lonely Old House 68 

The Prettiest Girl T Know 71 

The Bridge of Despair 'j2 

What Was His Creed? 'jt, 

In Grandfather's Day 74 

Mother 6g 



CONTENTS. 



Dreams of Childhood 70 

Grandfather's Well 75 

Red Time On the Farm 76 

Getting Ready for Church 78 

Memories of Long Ago 80 

The Silent Party 81 

Grandfather's Shoes . . 8^ 

My Merry Old Maid 83 

Single Blessedness 84 

The Jolly Old Bach 86 

The One-Eyed Mare 87 

When Company Came 88 

Waiting 91 

The Uniseen World 92 

The Saddest of All 92 

Awake 93 

Courage 94 

Flowers 94 

Somebody's Mother 95 

Mediitation .... 96 

Anticipation 97 

The Tempest Within 98 

Music 99 

Air Castles 100 

Pride loi 

Unspoken Words 103 

The Spies Soliloquy 103 

When All is Lost 104 

Storm 106 

Despondency 107 

Discontent 107 

Conitras't 108 

No Time to Weep 109 



CONTENTS. 

Only a Dream 1 1 1 

Where and Why :> in 

The Bird With a l^roken Pinion 112 

P^riendship 113 

Believing 114 

That Silver Lining 115 

Poverty 116 

A Dismal Dream 116 

The Other Fellow 117 

Mjiising 119 

From Shore to Shore 119 

The Haunted Castle 121 

The Weary Soul 122 

Is This the Law? 123 

The Silent City 124 

Wihy Should I Care After All? 125 

Shadows on the Shore 126 

Love 126 

Pussy White and Kitty Gray 127 

The Bird Counsel 129 

Mother Mousie 130 



MY MIRROR. 

A moth in the folds of nature's robe, 

A straw on the sea of time, 
A pebble tossed on a whirling globe, 

I see in my mirror of mind. 

Power instilled in a form of clav, 
Whose knowledge is nearly blind. 

To its own unending childish play 
In the mirror of self-defined. 

A bird whose nest is builded w^ell 
In the branches leafy shade, 

Alas ! my mirror seems to tell 
Of a tree that soon shall fade. 

A phantom figure garbed with fear, — 

An anxious longing face ; 
My mirror Ijrings me strangely near 

To many a kindred race. 

A shadow slinking past my glass 

In darkness crouches low ; 
While superstitious shadows pass 

My mirror to and fro. 

An infant now with open eyes. 
And restless arms thrown wide 

My mirror shows a soul that cries 
To know the other side. 



AN URN OF ASHES. 

Only an urn of ashes 

Returned from over the sea, 
In place of the face of a loved one 

With a greeting that never can be ; 
Just a handful of ashes 

That the reaper of time has left. 
Sadly retained and treasured, 

In the hands of those bereft. 

Only an urn of ashes 

Which calls again to mind, 
That day of final reaping 

No earthly ties can bind. 
Just the fading footprints 

Where noble deeds were traced, 
Ere time decreed promotion. 

And earthly cares erased. 

Only an urn of ashes 

Returned to their native land — 
A last and sad memento 

Of gold that's left the sand. 
Just a step beyond the portals 

Where earth must yield its dead ; 
Only just an urn of ashes, — 

Just another soul has fled. 



TIME. 

I have strayed throui^h the vales of temptation, 
To the foothills that lead to the right ; 

And climbed o'er the rocks of destruction, 
That are strewn on the pathway of night. 

I pause on the mountain and ponder. 
While the reaper of time gains apace ; 

And gathers the hearts that were fonder 
Of Hfe at the first of the race. 

Youth and old age that contended 
'Xeath the rays of the noonday sun, 

I see in the twilight are blended 

And the morning and evening are one. 

The shadows I saw in the distance 

Steal softly about me at last. 
To blot from my future existence 

The tempests I've known in the past. 

When the morning and evening have vanished. 
And the reaper of time is no more. 

The death-dreams of life will be banished. 
From the realms of eternity's shore. 



TO 



THE HOUSE OF MANY MANSIONS. 

In Father's bouse are many mansions, 

The Master told us long ago 
While beneath its huge dimensions, 

Restless man went to and fro. 
Through the basement still we wander. 

Often stumbling here and there, 
Stopping now and then to ponder. 

When a loved one climbs the stair. 

In Father's house are many mansions, 

Whose walls were never made by hands, 
And whose many broad expansions, 

Rc^ch f-^r beyond our seas and lands. 
Through the b^.scment halls we wander. 

Oft beyond the restless waves ; 
Until we reach that mystic chamber. 

And cast our garbs in empty graves. 

In Father's house are many mansions 

Whose portals throng with friends of yore, 
That climbed the stairs of good intentions 

Until they reached the topmost floor ; 
Still the lights and shadows juggle 

O'er the dusty basement floor. 
And our weary feet must struggle 

Until thev too, are heard no more. 



II 

WHEN SATAN SMILES. 

When health and streno^th that's all my own, 
Is nsed to help myself alone ; 
While wealth untold I gain and store, 
And think of naught but gaining more ; 
Then pride my blinded soul beguiles. 
And years speed on while Satan smiles. 

If cards are found within my walls, 
Where brothers oft make friendly calls. 
To pass perhaps an hour away. 
But sometimes make a longer stay ; 
Then cards are dealt in tiny piles, 
And the game goes on while Satan smiles. 

If a man gets home at twelve o'clock. 
So indisposed he hates to talk ; 
Rut yawns a bit and goes to bed 
With a dizzy brain and aching head, 
And frames excuses in different stvles. 
His wife drea'ms on while Satan smiles. 

When marriage vows are made amiss. 
And blindly sealed with a loving kiss ; 
If one believes that love divine 
Approves of casting pearl to swine. 
Then one must pass through endless trials. 
While the world moves on and Satan smiles. 



12 



SOMETIME. 

Just across the sea of sorrow, 

On to-morrow's golden shore 
Lies the ship we wish to borrow 

In a day or two or more. 
It will take us o'er the billows, 

Or will drift us to our graves ; 
Some will sail on downy pillows. 

Others sink beneath the waves. 



Just beyond the vale of sadness. 

Near old sometime's golden peak. 
We shall board the train of gladness, 

In an hour or day or week. 
It will bear us up the mountain 

Or will plunge us o'er the side ; 
Some will spend their time in shouting 

Others walk or steal their ride. 

Just across the river trouble. 

In the shade of by and by, 
We shall float just like a bubble 

On the water, you and I. 
It will drift us to the flowers 

Of sometime's golden shore. 
Where reclining 'neath its bowers. 

Time will close and bar the door. 



13 



AT THE MYSTIC GATE. 

Oh wings of love, no longer wait, 
But rise above the mystic gate, 
And bear my weary soul away, 
From darkest night to endless day. 
For here my troubled heart repines^ 
'Mid thorns of life and tangled vines ; 
While love divine that holds my fate 
Stands just behind the mystic gate. 

Oh Master, whisper low and sweet. 
The words that make my joy complete; 
And calm my restless stormy will, 
Again commanding "peace be still." 
Let me see beyond the Mirage, 
And scan at last thy vast estate, 
Lest I lose my faith and courage 
Just before the mystic gate. 

Oh, j\ [aster, the tempest is raging, 

With a fury no man can relate ; 

Wliile the lighthouse gleams faint in the distance. 

O'er the rocks at the mystic gate. 

The lifeboats have sped through the darkness 

And left the old ship to its fate ; 

While the breakers dash wild o'er the boulders 

That stand at the mvstic Qfate. 



14 



THE STRAP THAT FATHER WORE. 

There's a place I well remember, 

Just behind our woodhoiise door, 
Where in childhood, yonng and tender. 

Oft I danced in days of yore ; 
Oh how plain I see that leather. 

When my father's anger swelled. 
And with feet as light as feather, — 

How like thunder then I yelled. 
I was teasing in the kitchen. 

As I oft had done before ; 
And they said my flesh was itching 

For the strap that father wore. 

In my memory there is treasured 

Many a lively childhood scene. 
When that strap my breeches measured, 

Bringing dust from every seam. 
Once I threw an egg at brother. 

Just to see how much he'd stand. 
But when it missed and hit poor father. 

How it smelled and how I ran. 
Until the race at last was finished, 

xAnd we reached the woodhouse door. 
Then rnv clothing soon diminished, 

'Neath the strap that father wore. 



Oh, fond meinory, what a blessing 

Ts that g-olden childhood dream, 
When ] one night was just undressing 

To take a plunge wdthin the stream ; 
I had left the gate wide open ; 

And the coiws were in the grain ; 
While the words by father spoken, 

\\>re not to me a sweet refrain, — 
So T plunged beneath the water. 

And he slipped from off the shore, 
Speaking plain of regions hotter, 

As he plied the strap he always w^ore. 



OUR DARLING BABY. 

Harry, darling, how^ we loved you. 
How we longed to have }'ou stay ; 

Ere the angels just above you. 
Bore thy precious soul aw^ay. 

Just a ray of brightest sunshine. 
That warmed our hearts and fled ; 

Just an empty little cradle. 
Just a vacant little bed. 



i6 



Five short weeks our darling lingered, 
For all to fondle and caress : 

And now like gold the miser fingered, 
We treasure baby's little dress. 

Like the dewdrops in the morning. 
Like the flowers that bloom in May, 

Came and went our little darling, 
Bloomed and drifted far awav. 



AT GRANDFATHER'S GROCERY. 

Uncle Si and Xathan Stokes, 
Telling stories, cracking jokes, 
Munching now and then a cracker. 
Then a chaw that ar' terbaccer ; 
L^ncle Ben and Deacon Jones, 
Sigh aloud and stretch their bones, 
Lighting each a friendly pipe. 
Just before the crops are ripe. 

In comes Caleb, spick and span, 
Frock coat made by Betsy Ann, 
Biled shirt worn with paper collar, 
Boots with streaks of mutton tallar, 
DrefiFul frisky quoth the crowd, 
Thot ar' fellers mighty proud. 
Be a weddin' soon, I guess, 
Buvin' calicer fer a dress. 



17 



Ole Seth Pickett's sorrel mare 
Tuk the prize at county fair, 
But she as was ole Pickett's darter 
Tuk the prize the gals was arter ; 
Ezra Sinipkins see^d er hum, 
Axed her dad that night, by gum ; 
Now he's farmin' Seth's ole place 
Since poor Caleb lost the race. 

Sary Ann that 'ar' ole maid 

Owns a forty — debts all paid ; 

Goes ter meetin down to the holler — 

Arter Caleb, bet a dollar. 

Singin' book with bran new kiver, — 

Guess t'was one that Caleb giv 'er, — 

Sary sings to beat all nater, 

Voice so sharp t'would peel a tater. 

Well I guess that Til go hum, 
Else Miranda maybe'll come 
Arter tea and soap and snuff — 
Mighty near forgot the stuff — 
Half a pint o' best murlasses — 
Thar I vum Eve lost my glasses. 
Scripter measure, that's the kind, 
Glasses gone, Em sorter blind. 



i8 



WHEN AUNTIE GOES CALLING. 



When Auntie goes calling she takes me along, 
To prevent her from falling, for she never was strong ; 
She's slender and weakly, but not very old, 
And ]\Ia says she quickly repeats all she's told, 
But they all were so good to Auntie and me, 
That we seldom could get away before tea. 
They talked about clothes and lots of nice things. 
And asked Auntie the price of my sister's new ring ; 
They said that her beau they thought was quite nice. 
But believed it much better if both would think twice. 
Ma often looks worried, but why is it wrong, 
When Auntie goes calling, to take me along? 

Sometimes we go nursing for a night or a day, 

Just to be friendly, not for the pay ; 

Once a neighbor was sick and they thought he would 

die, 
So the>' sent right away for Auntie and I. 
We all had to whisper, the man was so ill, — 
And the children :^nd I had to keep very still ; 
The lady was telling of the pain he endured. 
While Auntie enquired if her man was insured. 
They whispered so loud I could hear them quite plain. 
And said death was much better than suffering pain ; 
But poor Auntie must live, yet she never was strong, 
So when she goes calling, she takes me along. 



19 

lAIY SELF AND I. 

Should all the world go wrong, 

And none be left but me, 
Would then my courage still be strong, 

Or would it yield and flee? 
Could I be Master of myself 

When others did not try, 
Or would I to be after pelf, 

For just myself and I? 

Could I be sure the gates of gold, 

For all w^ould open wide. 
And welcome those within the fold, 

Whose sins they could not hide? 
Would I to friends be just as true. 

Or would I pass them by. 
In haste to see what I could do. 

For just myself and I? 

If Ml our thoughts in letter's bright 

Were gleaming in the sky. 
Would many then remain in sight 

If all had wings to fly? 
I fear that I could never tell 

Which ones were left and doing well. 
For all that I could do would be 

To fly with just myself and me. 



20 

WHEN FATHER HAD THE BLUES. 

At hdme on the farm when I was a lad. 

The hardest of threshings that ever I had 

I received on the Sahbath, that day of all rest, 

When father had the blues like Satan possessed, 

And slowly arose long after daybreak. 

With a serious sigh and symptoms of headache. 

Mother would hasten the coffee to brewing. 

And even the doe: knew somethino; was doino-. 

For he grappled the bone he was hungrily chewing 

To escape from the cat that was frightfully meowing. 

And get far away from that pair of old shoes. 

That his ribs often felt, when father had the blues. 

When father at last had on all his clothes. 
And was stamping his feet and blowing his nose ; 
The pails on the porch were rattling and drumming, 
While the news through the barnyard quickly went 

hunurino- ; 
That the Sabbath had come and father was coming. 
The old mully cow stopped chewing her cud, 
And started to snort and paw up the sod ; 
But at last when her temper had started to cool. 
And father was seated on the three-legged stool. 
Her long bushv tail all loaded with dirt 
C^.me down like a flail with an unerring flirt, 
And wound clear around father's white Sundav shirt. 



21 



Father's words were not gentle, nor did he retreat; 

But cornered old A hilly in the very first heat : 

They mixed in the barnyard where the cow had oft 

stood, 
And the condition of his clothes I would tell if I could. 
When the milking- was done and several pails had been 

smashed, 
And the pigs had been fed and I had been thrashed; 
I went to the house to tell mother the news, 
But she said, "never mind, your pa has the blues." 
Poor old father was oft good and kind. 
Rut the key to his patience he seldom could find ; 
And now all his faults I would gladly excuse, 
To see him once more, if he did have the blues. 



COME AND SEE US. 

Come and see us, do, I prav. 
Bring your work and stay all day ; 
Of all my neighbors, Mrs. Brown, 
You are just the best in town. 
Bring the children, every one, — 
How I love to watch their fun. 
Dear me, I must tear away. 
You'll find me home most any day ; 
So do not fail to come right down 
And bring your folks, dear Mrs. Brown. 



At Airs. Browns? Well, yes, I was, 
Just to hear her old tongue buzz; 
But, Mrs. Jones, I dare not tell 
The way they live — 'twould not be well. 
A dirtier house could not be found 
In all of twenty niiles around ; 
And ugly children, little scamps, 
Tliey look like ragged little tramps ; 
Of course, I had to ask her down, 
But when she comes I'll not be found. 

No Mrs. Jones I must not stay, 
I've lots of work to do to-day : 
So come and see us when you can. 
And stay to tea, yourself and man ; 
just bring your daughter too, I pray, 
I do so love to hear her play 
And sing ; well, yes, I never heard 
A song so sweet from any bird. 
There, Mrs. Jones, I dare not wait. 
For I see there's some one at my gate. 

Why bless my soul, dear Mrs. Brown, 
Come in at once and sit right down ; 
And you my darlings, bless your hearts, 
Tust help vourselves to aunty's tarts ; 
What lovely children, always neat. 
With tidy clothes from head to feet ; 
But Mrs. Brown, I can not say, 
How Mrs. Jones, across the way, 
In rags can let her children go. 
Then talk about her neighbors so. 



23 



THE BRAVEST BOY I KNOW. 

He does not wear a wild west hat, 

Not does he boast of strength ; 
lU^t conquers every task he's at, 

No matter what its length. 
He rises bright and early. 

With cheeks and eyes aglow, 
For be has no fear of labor, 

This bravest boy I know. 

He does not care for playing cards, 

Nor does he crave a gun. 
But loves to study good and hard, 

Then have some time for fun ; 
He never fears the teacher's frown, 

For he does not care to go, 
Or trespass on forbidden ground, 

This bravest boy I know. 

FTe does not wear a pistol belt, 

Or fight with boys at school. 
But makes his presence always felt, 

Bv the way of the golden rule ; 
He ^■'oes not dread his father's voice. 

While passing to and fro. 
For obedience always was his choice, 

This bravest boy I know. 



24 



IX THE FOOTHILLS. 

In the foothills of life at daybreak, 

Scanning the snowy peaks. 
Ere youth had learned of the heartache, 

That seamed their rugged cheeks ; 
Standing in the shade of a boulder, 

W^ith anxious, restless feet. 
The youth that longs to grow older. 

Ere his knowledge is half complete. 

In the foothills of life in the morning, 

Far out from the boulder's shade. 
Hastened by time's grim warning. 

To snow capped peaks that fade ; 
Standing on a clifif in the hilltops. 

With earnest steady gaze, 
Blurred at times with teardrops, 

At life's uncertain ways. 

In the foothills of life no longer, 

But wrestling with rocks above, 
While time grows steadily stronger, 

And points to realms of love ; 
Standing at last on the mountain, 

With snowy mantle donned. 
Peering back at the fountain 

Of youth in memory fond. 



25 

THE TROUBLES OF GOEBAL GUACK. 

Goebal Gnack was a farmer, 

Who lived in the county of Kent ; 
And Katie, his wife, was a charmer 

Who watched him wherever he went ; 
For when he escaped without warning, 

With taters tied up in a bag, 
He w^s sure to return before morning, 

With a terribly troublesome jag. 

One night with a load that was weighty, 

He searched for a bed in the hay. 
But the stock was in league with his Katie, 

And gave the whole business away ; 
The turkevs called out from a rafter. 

While the ducks all answered them back, 
And shouted in chorus soon after, 

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, Quack, Quack, Quack. 

Ye Gods, it's the shnakes I am gittin', 

Or the critters are shpakin me name. 
But the bottle I think I am hittin' 

Is the critter that's mostly to blame. 
K^te, Kate, git atim, Kate, Kate, git atim. 

The hens are all shpakin to Kate, 
Be gory, the shnakes will be skattin 

When they see her old fisht on me pate. 



2.6 

GO IT ALONE. 

If vour friends and relation have vanished, 

Aind left yon alone on the track. 
Don't think that your chances are banished, 

To prove you're the sheep that's not black. 
With the tempest your only adviser, 

And a bed that is builded of stone. 
It will make you but strong^er and wiser 

When your courage says, go it alone. 

When friends all around you are falling 

And your comrades advise a retreat, 
Heed only the ones that are calling 

For mercy that lies at your feet. 
If the last faithful comrade surrenders, 

Or sinks to the earth with a groan. 
Remember our bravest defenders 

W^ere those that could go it alone. 

If the tempest with fury is raging, 

And the night winds shriek loud in their wrath, 
Don't tremble at the war they are waging, 

But plod right along in your path. 
If vour courage there is none to admire. 

And from duty all others have flown. 
Just remember there's a power that is higher 

That admires you going alone. 



27 



THE MAN THAT'S GOME TO STAY. 

Here's to the man with a level head, 
Who is never driven and seldom led, 
But ^tands unyielding- in his tracks, 
And always thinks before he acts ; 
The man who smiles at endless trials. 
And drives dull care away. 
Is the kind of man to lead the van, — 
The man who has come to stay. 

Give me the man who is not blind 
To wrong ideas of any kind ; 
Bnt keeps an eye on every side, 
Where old misfortune seeks to hide ; 
The mnn whose mind is broad and kind. 
With thoughts for every day. 
Is the kind of man to think and plan, — 
The man who has come to stav. 



A FEAST IN DREAMLAND. 

In dreamland last night I was feasting. 

At a tible I once used to know. 
And talking with father and mother, . 

In the home where I lived long ago. 
How phin I could see my dear mother. 

As I waited for the evening meal, 
And father returned from the cellar, 

W^ith a pan of potatoes to peel. 



28 



Mother put over the kettle, 

While father replenished the fire ; 
And the odor of cooking gave promise, 

Of feasting to my heart's desire. 
Mother's face as of old was all beaming 

As she passed me the fruit of my choice, 
But, alas, I had only been dreaming 

And can never more hear her dear voice. 



DON'T CRY. 



There, there, be a nice little lady, , 

And I'll get you some food by and by, 
For the milk wt must save for the baby. 

So please, little darling, don't cry. 
ril talk to-morrow with cousin, 

And ask him to buy us some bread. 
For the shop has closed down for the season. 

And your mamma, poor mamma, is dead. 
There's a banquet to-night at the mansion, 

I saw while passing by. 
And ril search at the door of the kitchen 

For food, little girl — don't crv. 



29 



A QUIET COUNTRY HOME. 

Just beyond the crowded city, 

In the country's fragrant bloom, 
There an object once of pity 

Sought for quiet, peace and room ; 
Where beneath the farm house gable, 

Now I lay me down to rest. 
But the stock within the stable. 

Paw and stamp like all possessed. 

Just before the dawn of morning. 

When all nature seems to tire, 
Through my window scorning warning, 

Thomas Cat and Puss Mariar ; 
Gentle breezes fresh and balmy. 

Far away from city flats. 
Keeping vigil you and Tommy, 

O'er my sleep with howling cats. 

Just beneath my quiet chamber, 

In the morn at four o'clock, 
I can hear the farmer clamber 

Out of bed to feed his stock ; 
Purest air and fields of flowers, 

Far away from nervous strain. 
Where in morning's early hours, 

Milk pails hum a sweet refrain. 



30 



THE PLACE I LOVE BEST. 

There's a qniet little corner, 

Where I oft lie down to rest 
\\'ith a peace of mind and body 

That no tono;ue has yet expressed ; 
'Tis a cot with faded cover 

Near the bed where mother slept. 
And in memory still T love her 

As when in nightie there I crept. 

In the early hours of morning- 
Just before the break of day 

Here in dreamland, half discerning 
With dear old mother oft I play, 

And again beneath the cover 
Of that spacious snowy bed 

I hear her say that just above her 
Angels list to prayers I said. 

When the day of toil is ended 

And the sun has sunk from sight, 
Then fatigue with joy is blended 

As T say to all good night, 
Eor my spirit longs to slumber 

Where my childhood days were blest 
With my dear old sainted mother 

In that place T love the best. 



31 



THE SONG OF THE WINDS. 

Floating gently o'er the meadow, 

Past the brook and through the trees, 

Songs that lull in evening shadows 
Mystic music on the breeze. 

Dashing past in early morning, 
Winds refreshing wild and free 

Wakeful songs the sleeper warning 
Mystic music borne to me. 

Rushing madly through the forest, 
Flving past o'er land and sea 

Winds that shriek in wildest chorus, 
Sonofs that startle you and me. 

Moaning 'neath the eaves and gable 
Howling past the oaken door 

Winds that jar the chairs and table. 
Where loved ones sat in days of yore. 

Gentle breezes floating o'er us 
Soon will sing a dirge to all 

Drifting past where loved ones bore us 
'Neath that final funeral pall. 



?>^ 



I WONDER WHY. 

I wonder why the kin^^ of beasts, 
That kills the weaker kind, 

Is satisfied at all his feasts. 
When his fill is all he finds. 

I wonder why when hunting game. 

We still desire to kill ; 
With food in store before we came. 

To more than eat our fill. 

I wonder why the sin is less. 
To kill a lamb or tender fowl, 

It hurts them just as much I guess. 
As it would a wolf or owl. 

I wonder why we do not love 
(3ur neighbors as ourselves, 

Enough to sell the goods we have, 
To fill their empty shelves. 

I wonder why we do not turn 
The cheek that some one smites. 

And let him chide the other side. 
Nor ask for equal rights. 

I wonder why the saints of old. 
That taught in ages past ; 

Declared the evil then of gold. 
While now we hold it fast. 



35 

A NIGHT'S CAROUSAL. 

One nii^ht as I lay on my pillow, 

And drifted in gentle repose, 
A fly fell down from the ceiling, 

And a bedbug tickled my nose ; 
The hens in the coop were all quiet. 

And the dog on the porch was asleep. 
But the children were raising a riot 

That would cause Rip Vanwinkle to weep. 

The mother was spanking the baby. 

While the father was scolding at Ted, 
And old Satan was chuckling, may be, — 

If he heard one-half that they said. 
The dog on the porch commenced howling, 

While the roosters all started to crow. 
And the angels in heaven I venture. 

Would have flown had they been here below. 

Their house was scantily furnished. 

But with numbers they surely were blest, 
For sixteen slept up in the chamber, 

A'nd the kitchen held most of the rest. 
I have read of ten nights in a bar room, 

And the evils of drink that was strong. 
But I think that my one night's carousal, 

Would have jarred the whole outfit along. 



36 



Oh (hrwinitc kindly turn time in its flight, 

And make nie an ape again just for to-night. 
To sleLp in a tree on the out of door plan. 

For I'm weary, and sorry I'm only a man 
God hless the dear little children 

And let them grow rugged and tall. 
But in evening T pray I may slumber 

Fir awiv from the sound of it all. 



AIY MARY JAXE. 

Of all the maidens that ever was seen, 

Xo darling so charming could ere come between, 

This dear little, queer little maid of my heart. 

Whose Icve is so clever we never shall part. 

Her eyes are like diamonds that shine in the night, 

With a sparkle that startles the heart with delight, 

And tills me with love I can scarcely explain — 

My darling, my charming, my own Mary Jane. 

FTer features are perfect, her hair is like silk, 
With teeth that are pearly and whiter than milk ; 
Her foot is so tiny I scarce heir it fall. 
As she trips through the parlor or glides through the 

hih. 
She sings to me daily the sweetest refrains. 
Of a love that is constant and always remains, 
Which is better Fm sure than many at that, 
l\Iv own Marv Jane, mv Angora Cat. 



37 
WHEN HUBBY COMES HOME WITH A JAG. 

When I was young and good looking, 

I captured my suitors at sight, 
But now all I'm good for is cooking, 

And waiting for hubby at night. 
When the door of the hall is heard drumming. 

And Towser starts yelping like sin, 
Then I know that my Josey is coming. 

And soon there'll be music within. 

Then out in the kitchen he stumbles. 

And starts with the chairs playing tag. 
Until over the cookstove he tumbles. 

And kicks like a cat in a bag. 
No d^rlinof, I have not been drinking, 

So don't start chewing the rag, 
Eor surely you can not be thinking 

That \our hubby comes home with a jag. 



LONG AGO. 



When the evening shades are falling. 

And the sun is sinking low ; 

I c^n hear in memory calling, 

A sweet voice of long ago. 

Oh, how many years have fleeted 

Sin'^e I heard my name repeated. 

Pjv that mother's voice so soft and low. 

Oh, how fate my life has cheated. 

With mistakes so oft repeated. 

Since her life but half completed had to go. 



38 

Oh, how well do I remember 

All her words so kind and tender ; 

For even when she chided. 

Her words with love w^ere g-nided ; 

And when we children oft contended 

In our prattle to and fro, • 

All our troubles soon were ended 

By our mother in that home of long ago. 

Where in memory oft wt trace her, 

But alas, can ne'er replace her. 

How plain I see those thin white fingers. 

When she last held out her hand ; 

How her smile in memory lingers, 

As her face I softly fanned. 

When the shades of life are falling, 

And the tide is ebbing low, 

Let me hear her s]:)irit calling soft and low. 

Oh, wings from the winds of that echoless shore. 

Just add my poor message to the rest of thy store. 

And tell mother I love her as ever before. 



I'M LIVING ALONE FOR YOU. 

I'm Boating on in a heavenly dream 

Beyond the clouds to my goal supreme. 
Where an angel awaits I love so true, 

I'm living alone, alone for you, 
Xo s"ems e'er shone beneath the skies. 

But lose their lustre 'neath your eyes. 
And all this world of wealth can do. 

Is naught compared to you, just you. 



39 



I see that angel face so bright, 

In waking hours, and e'en at night, 
And the greatest joy I ever knew, 

Is hving alone, alone for yon. 
My soul in rapture soars away. 

And lives in love's eternal day. 
Until all the world in grand review. 

Holds naught compared to you, just you. 



GRIM DEATH. 



Pass on. grim death, to those that wait. 
Weary and silent to meet their fate ; 
For life with me has much to do 
'Ere the flesh is ready to welcome you. 

Away, pale death, to those content 
With graves where ancient Heathen went 
For life to me has much to learn 
Ere dust to dust would agahi return. 

Begone, grim death, to those that love 
To leave for distant realms above ; 
For life inscribed on garbs of clay, 
From them has drifted far away. 

Oh, mystic death, with pallid brow, 
Depart to those that humbly bow ; 
For life and love instilled in man 
Came not to please thy gastly plan. 



40 



SWEET REST. 



Out on the plains when the sun sinks low, 

And the balmy breezes gently blow. 

Out on the plains that nature has blest, 

In the soft summer twilight is rest, sweet rest. 

Out where the air is pure and sweet. 

With sparkling stars to guard our sleep. 

On nature's floor with our blankets spread. 

We sleep in peace in our roomy bed. 

Then away to the plains from crowded homes, 

Away to the plains where the coyote roams. 

Away to the glories of the golden west. 

Wliere the blessings of nature afl^ord sweet rest, 

Far from the city's ceaseless din. 

Where filth and smoke has never been. 

Away from bondage, want and death, 

With balmy air for every breath. 

Oh, for a life on the plain's wild breast. 

Where freedom finds its sweetest rest. 

And stars above with turf below, 

Provides the grandest room I know. 



WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 

I might have been wealthy, but I never have been. 
I might have been fleshy, but I always was thin, 
I might have lived single with money to let. 
And if wifey stops working, I may try it yet. 



41 

I niig-ht have been handsome, but Nature decHned, 
I might have been hvely, but was always behind. 
I might have been working if left all alone 
But wife would have left me if she only had known. 

I might have been jolly, but I always was sad, 
T might have had knowledge, but I never have had, 
I might have done wonders, but the landlord duns me, 
And work seems to haunt me wherever I flee. 

I might have been lucky, but I never could win, 

I might have been lonesome, but misfortune stepped 

in. 
I might have been wise, but I never could think. 
And my wife often cries "You're the missing link." 



THE MAilD OF THE MIST. 

In the vales of old Niagara, 

Where the troubled waters flow, 
Lived a warrior brave and stalwart, 

In his tepee long ago; 
And at sunset when the vension 

On the coals was getting brown, 
Cap^e his sweetheart lithe and duskey. 

Tripping softly o'er the ground ; 
Oft they lingerecl 'neath' the boulders. 

Where the waters foamed and hissed, 
He, the daring chief Niagara, 

She the charming maid of the mist. 



42 



When autumn's bright colors 

Were spread on the ground, 
And snowflakes, Hke feathers. 

Through the treetops came down, 
The chief and the maiden, 

W^ould both speed away. 
To the tepee's bright fires. 

At the close of the day ; 
And the twany young warrior. 

To his bride would enlist, 
And fight in the future. 

For the maid of the mist. 

When tlie paleface invaded. 

And at last won the day, 
Our heroes fought bravely 

'Ere they faded away ; 
Oh wild rushing waters. 

That thundered and rolled, 
Could'st thou but remember 

Those sweethearts of old ; 
Did their spirits still linger, 

Then f^in would I list. 
For a song on the winds, 

From the maid of the mist. 



GRANDMA CAT. 

Poor old weary grandma cat. 
Could not catch a mouse or rat ; 
Teeth all broken, claws worn ofif, 
Grandma kittv has a coujjh. 



43 



Poor old lonely grandma cat, 
Purring softly on the mat ; 
Daughter pussy ran away, 
'Neath the house to frisk and play. 

Poor old anxious grandma cat 
Thought that cook had shouted scat ; 
Thomas kitty caught a mouse. 
And growled at pussy 'neath the house. 

Poor old loving grandma cat 
Meows to find out where they're at. 
And when they fail to heed her will, 
Grandma kitty worries still. 



WHERE ARE THEY FROM? 

From whence came the winds, 

And where do they go; 
From whence came our thoughts, 

That ebb and flow? 
The mansion and hovel, 

Are swept by the blast. 
And both are in ruins. 

When the tempest has past. 



44 



The siint and the sinner, 

Roth stand side bv side 
And both (Hsappear, 

Beneath the same tide ; 
The beauties of nature. 

And the element's rag^e, 
Tn the book of mankind 

Are both on one page. 



THE LAST OLD TREE. 

East Grand Rapids' oklest tree. 
Whose fruit and shade was fair to see, 
Xo longer shelters children there. 
For time h^s laid its branches bare; 
And sprinkled silver since they played, 
On many a head that sought its shade. 
Three score years and two in all, 
Ere time decreed its final fall. 

Deir old tree whose fragrant bloom. 
Gave forth in springtime grand perfume. 
No longer stands to f^ce the bhsi. 
For the brave old tree is dow^n at last ; 
And lying low, it calls to mind 
Many a loss of a greater kind ; 
As it sidly fades with the closing year, 
This dear old, brave old pioneer. 



45 

THE PIONEER'S LAMENT. 

Countless miles of wildest forest, 

Endless plains of richest soil, 
Where is now thy boundry nearest, 

Where has vanished Nature's spoil ? 
Fields of grain and crowded cities. 

Have reached at last the setting sun, 
And (iod alone the pauper pities, 

Who has no home when the day is done. 

( )ur country's numbers, fast increasing, 

Still are reaching out for more. 
While a few on wealth are feasting, 

As they never have before ; 
Yet they cry for greater numbers. 

To come forth and take our lands, 
While our own increase encumbers. 

Malarial swamps and desert lands. 

Chno-, ye bells, in gilded spires, 

C^ll thy subjects far and near; 
For souls awake, like smothered fires. 

When reason's gales at last appear. 
Where in all the fields of labor. 

Can we find a kind of plan. 
Where wealth shall love its neighbor. 

With good will to every man ? 



46 



LOVE ME OXCE MORE AS OF OLD. 

Go bring me a bunch of sweet flowers, 

And fasten just one in my hair, 
As you did in Hfe's morning hours, 

When gold and not silver was there ; 
For the shades of the evening are falling. 

While the sunset is turning to gold, 
And in vain my old heart is calling 

For your love once more as of old. 

Go bring me some fruit in the evening. 

The choicest there is to be found. 
And smile at my joy in receiving. 

While the family is gathered around. 
Oh darling to-night I am yearning. 

For your arms once again to enfold, 
The heart that for you is still burning. 

Will you love me once more as of old ? 

Go pluck me a basket of flowers. 

And beckon me out to the gate. 
As vou did when the future was ours. 

With stories of love to relate ; 
Oh bring back your heart in the evening, 

With its treasures more precious than gold, 
While you kiss me again before leaving, 

And love me once more as of old. 



49 



We quarreled and coodled 

For many a year, 
And each became jealous 

When rivals were near, 
He clamied to be pious 

Before we were married ; 
And read without ceasing, 

The Bible he carried ; 
But now he's forgotten 

The pains that he took. 
And admitted to me 

He borrowed the book. 



He stays out at night. 

Where, nobody knows, 
And swears when I question 

The places he goes ; 
And yet there are times 

When we kiss and make up, 
Like a drunkard returned 

To the dregs of his cup ; 
Until of old rivals. 

We both speak again. 
And each tells the other. 

What might have been. 



50 

THE FROGTOWN GOSSIP. 

Said the frog to the toad, "if you'll show me the road, 
To the puddle where flies are the thickest, 

I'll give you a chance at the frog island dance 
To waltz with the maid that's the quickest." 

Said the toad to the frog, 'T think you're a hog, 
To charge such a price for your party, 

But if flies it must he, just hop after me, 
And I'll show you a meal that is hearty." 

Said the toad to the frog, "let's away from the bog, 

And together we'll find a vicinity, 
Where frogs that are green can not come between. 

And then you may be my affinity." 

Said the frog to the toad, "where the water has flowed. 
There's a frog I would much rather see. 

And my dear pollywog with his chin on a log, 
Is wiggling and crying for me." 

Said the fly to the bee, "let me crawl in your tree, 
And lend me a lunch from your larder ; 

Said the bee to the flv, "you had better buzz by," 
And the next time in summer work harder," 

Said the fly to the bee, "I know of a tree. 
Where the bees are not half of your number ; 

Said the bee to the fly, "if you'll act as a spy," 
I'll give you one-half of the plunder." 



51 

Said the fly to the bee ''you may leave it to me, 
For I am your servant most humble ;" 

Said the bee to the fly, "your share is to die ; 
For your tree was the home of a bumble." 

Said the worm to the bug, you're a very tough mug 
While I am both limber and comely ;" 

Said the bug to the worm, "you may wiggle and 
squirm 
But you know very well you are homely." 

Said the worm to the bug, "your nest may be snug 
But 1 could not live in your shanty ;" 

Said the bug to the worm, "it is not your concern 
For I ani sure that your shack is more scanty." 



THE GREAT UNKNOWN. 

Sailing on a floating island. 
Drifting in etheral space. 

On a trackless endless ocean. 
From whence no man can trace. 

We can see our neighbor islands. 
Farther on beyond our reach ; 

We can see their lights all shining. 
On the waves that have no beach. 



Wc can study every hour, 

( )n the wonders Go<l hath wrought, 
Yet we can not trace his power, 

( )r control our simplest thought. 

Men have lived and died for ages 
( )n our floating island home, 

W'hile we wrote and read the images, 
1\) ex])lain the great unknown. 



WHEN THE PARSOX STAYED TO TEA. 

When ])a and ma was cross and strict. 

And ma's aunt Jane dressed up, 
1 almost always then got licked, 

h'or hreaking saucer, plate or cu]) ; 
And just because 1 said, "(losh darn" 

When ma would nudge and j^inch my knee, 
I*a locked me up within the barn 

VVnieii the ])ars()n stayed to tea. 

( )ne day I heard the hens all scpiack. 

In the C(;np where p-i had been, 
And when I hastened down the walk. 

He caught my s])eckle(l hen 
1diat very day the parson came, 

As hungry as he could be 
Rut why was my old hen to blame, 

When the parson stayed to tea. 



53 



I sal llial iii,i;lil by sister Sue, 

W liilc ma was carving hrcafl ; 
And just hccaiisc I saJd I knew 

Why my '>1<I Ik" was (Icafl 
Tlic j)arsoii lani^licd, and pa did loo; 

lint ma was vexed at me, 
And Sne was an^';i"y tln'on^li and llnnnt^li, 

VVIieii the parson stayecl to tea. 

Till' parson talked witli sister Sne, 

And said to nevei" ininrl, 
kor Ijoys as ^ood as me lie knew 

Was rather ha id to find. 
I like him too, and always will, 

Ihit somehow now and then, 
I think of how he ate his fill, 

( )f mv old speeklcfl hen. 



'iiik: DARW'ixrrkrs i)i^k:AM. 

As 1 sal in my <haii' in the eveninjj;', 

And drifted in dreanilanrl away, 

I lluMi^lit in mv dreams I was leaving, 

I'or an isle where the liairv men stay; 

■And at last on arriving 1 started to rove, 

In search of mv snjjper in a e()coannt ^rove, 

IJntil an old monke\- slid down from a tree, 

And started to chatter and motion at me. 



54 



Then the hair}- man winked and said to the rest. 
That they all shared alike in the food they pos- 
sessed ; 
And "You," said the monkey, "Our business 

would bungle. 
By eating one nut and owning the jungle. 
If the Lord has made you then never mind us. 
But mind your own business and don't make a 

fuss. 
For I think that a home deep down in the woods, 
Is better than starving and fighting for goods." 

I then tried to teach them our civilized plan. 
But they shouted, "Disown him, he's only a man. 
And if he continues to banter and preach. 
He'll have all the cocoanuts out of our reach ;" 
"Beware of his teaching," said a voice from the 

trees, 
"Or he'll soon have a mortgage on all that he 

sees." 
Then they all disappeared and my heart gave a 

th rob, — 
For I was awake and out of a job. 



AT BLETCHER'S MILL. 

Some thirty years I think ago. 
With fishing tackle to and fro, 
I rambled through the woods at will. 
With cousin Ben at Bletcher's mill. 



55 



In memory now I see the brook, 
Where oft we sat with baited hook, 
And ahnost feel my heart rebound, 
At fishes flopping on the ground. 

Then rushing home at close of day, 
We sought to have without delay. 
Our fishes fried while each would boast, 
And claim that he had caught the most. 

Oh memory fond of childhood days, 
Ere paths divide in dififerent ways, 
Recall those joys that please me still, 
When we were bovs at Bletcher's mill. 



GOSSIP. 



In many a town 'tis the elixir of life, 

For meddlesome tongues to be stirring up strife ; 

If some pious prudence looks at a man, 

Thev will find out his name as soon as they can. 

And chgse him around like Satan possessed. 

To learn where he came from and all of the rest. 

And when Simday arrives, they are all found in 

church, 
I ike a thousand poll-parrots lined up on their perch. 
Their predictions are many and not of the best. 
While each for attention will loudly contest. 
Until the brain of a saint would sink into dizziness, 
And pray for old Satan to mind his own business. 



56 

They pray for the soul that their slander escaped. 
And beseech that its conscience in mournino^ be draped. 
If son":e worthless rascal should leave the poor wife. 
That he worried ^nd starved the most of her life; 
They rush to their pastor and quickly complain, 
To have them united and starving again. 



FROM A TO Z. 



A is for alphabet, a collection of signs, 
transmitting meaning from our eyes to our minds. 

Be is for beauty that is only skin deep, 
and ceases to be when time starts to reap. 

C is for comfort enjoyed by the few, 

who h-^ve labored but little for comforts they k'^ew. 

D is for (lutv tliit is seldom all done, 
and never quite ready for the setting sun. 

E is for e^rs manv sounds to receive, 

for the mind to define and seldom believe. 

F is for fancy, a delusion of mind 
that seeks the unreal it never can find. 

G is for greatness so often misplaced, 

that the sound of the w^ord is almost disgraced, 

H is for honesty that delivers the goods 

and prevails more intensely in the field or the woods. 



57 

I is for Indians which we drove off the earth, 
and proceeded to enjoy the land of their birth. 

J is for judg-ment that is often the best, 

when numbers are greatest its ways to contest. 

K is for knowledge of various kinds, 

and properly chosen enlightens our minds. 

L is for love the word most abused, 

and handled so roughly that all are confused. 

"SI is for money the lucre called filthy, 

that pleases poor saints as well as the wealthy. 

N is for needy such as hunger and grieve 
without any lucre their wants to relieve. 

(3 is for ounce the part of a pound 

that freely is given to a brother that's down. 

P is for pride that prevails over all, 

and playing with poverty oft takes a fall. 

O is for questions more apt to offend, 

when applied to the garment we most need to mend. 

R is for rain that moistens the seeds, 

with much less affect on corn than on weeds. 

S is for simpleton one that's not bright, 

and enjoys every moment of the day and the night. 

T is for terrible whose meaning may lurk, 
in those that are horriblv afraid of all work. 



58 

L' is for useful, such as servant or slave 
that asks no reward this side of the grave. 

\ is for vice made of steel or of wood, 

there is also another kind, but it isn't much good. 

W is for wilderness where beasts often roam 
and enjoy as much peace as some do at home. 

X is for xebec that sails on the sea, 

where the waves and the winds are blessedly free. 

Y is for youth, that is happy and gay, 

in grandest of hopes that soon pass away. 

Z is for zeal, more often expressed 

bv one that's mistaken than all of the rest. 



WHEN A WOMAN SAYS SHE WONT. 

When a woman gets her dander up, 

And says she's cooked enough, 
Its better far to coax a bit. 

Than try to run a bluff ; 
So when she talks of voting 

For laws we men evade. 
We'll simply say we're doting 

On pies like mother made, 
And quickly tie our apron strings 

Prepared to do the stunt. 
For bluffing never straightens things 

When a woman savs she won't. 



59 



Johnny put the kettle on, 

And Jimmy stir the soup, 
For mother now has voting gone, 

And baby has the croup ; 
So get your sister's supper on 

And make your mother's bed ; 
Then get the ax and carve them, John, 

Some good okl father's bread. 
Go wash the chiklren's faces, Rob, 

Until they howl and grnnt ; 
For mother has a better job. 

And sister says she won't. 



When the rules and regulations 

Of a home are slightly mixed. 
Its a woman's explanations 

That are apt to get them fixed ; 
But when the kitchen needs us, 

We men are always game ; 
If we find the job that feeds us 

Can get there just the same. 
So brother, when your temper flies, 

Don't call a woman's bluff 
Until she stamps her foot and cries, 

"Mv Dear vou've cooked enoup'h." 



6o 



MY SISTER'S BEAU. 

When sister tied old Towser tight, 

I foiiiiVl some good excuse 
For sitting- up that very night. 

And once 1 turned him loose ; 
For pa and ma I knew would say. 

That I to hed must go. 
And I just could not stay away 

When sister had a beau. 

One night I got my nearest chum 

To come wdth me and play ; 
Rut if my sister's beau should come 

He Slid he w^ould not stay. 
When Towser got away that night 

Pa gave a startled glance 
For sister's beau was out of sight, 

And Tow^ser coughed up pants. 

Pa then w^ent dow^n the road to see 

If sister's beau was hurt ; 
And just beneath an apple tree. 

He found a piece of shirt. 
When sister's beau and pa came in 

They put me right to bed. 
And gave me such a blistering, 

Mv chum eot scared and fled. 



6i 



POOR LITTLE BAHY. 

Poor little helpless creatures, 
Tossed on the billows of time, 

Fair little dimpled features. 

To be marked with a frown or line. 

Its laughing and crying is blended 
With the sighs of its grandfather old ; 

For his time is now nearly ended, 

And his body will soon be but mould. 

So make up a dress for the baby. 
And fasten each seam with a sigh, 

Nor forget while painting its future. 
There's one more being to die. 

We may teach the poor little darling, 
Every word that is known to our race 

But alas ! we must also remember, 
That a casket must cover its face. 

Let us pity the poor little baby, 

As we rock it to and fro ; 
For who can fathom its future. 

And tell where in death it must go. 



62 

WHAT DO WE KNOW? 

Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proiul, 
When its ,2:arb is all fitted for lining a shroud ; 
Nav boast not of knowledge 'twere better unsaid, 
For the fruits of our college are the graves of the 

dead, 
When hopes we have cherished of the world here 

below. 
Like dreams have all perished, then what do ve l^novv^ 



Oh why should we drift like a reed on the stream, 
When the rays of the beacon lights scarcely are seen ; 
'Twere better to learn of the restless waves 
Than never discern this side of our graves ; 
When the power supreme in this world of woe 
At last is seen what then shall we know ? 



Whv prate of our modern and civilized plan. 

While the beast that's not eaten is happier than man ; 

Protection for horses our goodness promotes, 

While making machinery for cutting lambs throats ; 

We prattle like children in their play to and fro, 

But in sight of our maker what do we know? 



^>3 
HABIT. 

Of all the words that ever were used, 
Has there ever been any like habit abused? 
When some leading lady wears this or that, 
In shape of a gown or new kind of hat, 
Every child on the street is ready to grab it, 
While older ones hasten to get in the habit. 

The father puffs his favorite weed, 
And says that Satan sowed the seed. 
But habit holds- the father fast, 
And teaches his son to smoke at last ; 
If a pipe is seen the boy will nab it 
And learn in turn the same old habit. 

The drunkard groans with his latest breath, 
That the liquor habit is certain death ; 
The beggar hails you on the way, 
And solicits your sympathy every day ; 
But when at last you pass him by, 
He gets in the habit and starts to cry. 

The millionaire with his grand display 
Is usually in the habit of having his way. 
And when grim death knocks at his door 
He may break the habit, but never before ; 
When crime has pled its case in vain, 
Behold the habit of being insane. 



64 



ON THE BANKS OF EAUCLAIRE. 

Carry me back to the land of lumber, 

Where no city cares encumber ; 

Back to the vales of old Wisconsin, 

The ho-me of the pine and the norseman Johnson 

Away to the valley so fragrant and fair, 

Doiwn where the Chippewa meets the Eauclaire. 



Here's to the memory of the old pine tree, 
As well as the woodsman where e'er they may be 
For oft in my dreams I list to their song. 
Then awake in dismay to find I am wrong ; 
And not in that valley so fragrant and fair, 
Down where the Chippewa meets the Eauclaire. 



Oh sing me a song at the close of the day, 

Of the time ere the pine had drifted away. 

The song of the woodsman by the firelights glow, 

Ere he left the old camp for the village belo-w, 

To meet with his loved ones in the vallev so fair, 

Down where the Chippewa meets the Eauclaire. 



65 



STOP AND THINK. 

When good fortune starts to topple 

And threatens tumbhng down, 
If the friends that used to cheer you, 

Seem to meet you with a frown. 
Search the chain of each day's actions 

Until you find the missing link, 
Then remember where you found it, 

And the next time stop and think. 

When our judgment seems to falter. 

And fails to stand the test. 
If we strive for greater knowledge. 

Our maker will do the rest ; 
When told that grim perdition 

Has us standing on its brink, 
Let us never get excited, 

But stop awhile and think. 

When in riches many revel. 

And their glasses loudly clink. 
Let our heads be always level. 

And in shape to stop and think ; 
Where golden prospects glisten. 

And sparkling diamonds blink, 
Let us stop and look and listen. 

Ere the time is past to think. 



66 



THE PARSON'S COW. 

Bessie's eyes were slightly green. 
With bulging nostrils just between, 
And when those optics rolled around, 
The parsons pail could not be found ; 
But when his temper had a chance 
It boiled to see his Sunday pants. 
And giving vent with every breath. 
Referred to fire after death. 

Bossie's temper was always hot. 
Like powder behind a charge of shot ; 
And when the parson found her vexed, 
He always changed his morning text ; 
While sister Jones turned up her nose 
At sight of milk stains on his clothes ; 
And when he knelt to say his prayers 
His pants were white with Bossie's hairs. 

At night the parson with brimming pail. 
Would try to dodge the old cow's tail, 
Until at last she let it fly. 
With aim that reached the parson's eye. 
And glanced around with knowing look 
To see what steps her victim took. 
Then Bossie's heels would start to plow 
And for all I know she's kicking now. 



6; 

ALONE. 

I'll wander back, methinks alone, 

And tread the same old path, 
As did those barefoot boys I've known, 

Ere time had spent its wrath. 

To-day I'm going back alone. 

To scenes of bygone years, 
Where this old restless rolling stone 

May find relief in tears. 

Alone, ah yes, but friend or foe 

In life's uncertain game, 
Aljay find perhaps 'tis better so, 

If lost to bear the blame. 

Beyond the city all alone, 

I struggle, stafif in hand. 
To tread again, since older grown. 

My childhood's native land. 

Alone I plod my weary way, 

Where massive structures loom. 
The same old place I romped in play, 

When cowslips w^ere in bloom. 

I lean upon my staff and sigh. 

For scenes of old have flown 
And left alone, the brook and I, 

The brook and I alone. 



^68 



THE LONELY OLD HOUSE. 

There's a dreary old house in the city, 
Where structures loom high all around ; 

And its servants all leave without pity, 
When the walls sink nearer the ground. 

The roof with old age is bending, 

And the shingles have faded to gray ; 

While the servants from the castle descending, 
Are drifting in silence away. 

The windows that once used to glisten. 
With the shades of the evening are dim : 

And the servants for orders may listen 
But the old house is silent within. 

No longer is the cutlery polished, 
That delved in the dainties untold, 

For the kitchen is nearly demolished 
And the servants are weary and old. 

The master of the house is preparing, 
To search for a home up above, 

But alas, he is almost dispairing 

At the loss of the old house he loved. 



6q 



MOTHER. 

Mother, dearest, how I miss you 

When the sun is sinking low, 
And its rays with shadows struggle 

Past your window to and fro. 
Where, oh mother, hast thou travelled 

Since last I saw thy loving face. 
Dost thou linger still about me 

Or dw^ell far out in endless space? 

How I long to see those features 

That for me were marked with care : 
But to-night there's no one calling 

There is but a vacant chair. 
Can'st thou send a silent message. 

Shape me just one word of love? 
Dost thy spirit eyes perceive me. 

Or hast thou flown to realms above ? 

Oft at night I lie and ponder 

O'er the words you used to say, 
When we both would sit and wonder 

Where friends had gone that passed away 
Now, dear mother, you have vanished 

Past that mystic veil unseen. 
And alone I yearn for knowledge 

Of the barrier just between. 



70 



DREAMS OF CHILDHOOD. 

Drifting alone on the shoals of time, 

Dreaming of long ago, 
Living again in that sunny clime 

That only a child can know. 
Dear old friends and scenes of childhood 

Fleeting fast beyond recall, 
How I long to roam the wildwood 

And list to your voices, one and all. 

Through the meadow sweet with flowers 

Oft in dreamland now I roam, 
Past the brook and shady bowers 

Of my dear old childhood home. 
Drifting on without complaining, 

Sleeping sweet without a frown, 
Wake me when the day is waning, 

Call me when the sun goes down. 

Now the dear old house is silent 

For its walls now know no sound. 
And like ancient warriors gallant. 

Have no mark but a grassy mound. 
Dear old letters, worn and fingered. 

Pictures stored on memory's walls, 
Flow thy words of love have lingered 

In those old and classic halls. 



71 
TBE PRETTIEST GIRL I KNOW. 

Her hair is not of golden hue, 

Nor has she teeth like pearls, 
But of all the helles I ever knew, 

She's the very hest of girls ; 
Her mind like the mint is working 

The gold of her heart to bestow ; 
Nor has she a moment for shirking. 

This prettiest girl I know. 

Her cheeks are not like roses, 

Nor has she eyes of blue, 
But when her book she closes 

She knows a thing or two; 
The beds are made up chamber, 

And the dusting done below 
With a will that oft proclaims her, 

The prettiest girl I know. 

Her lips are not of cherry red. 

Nor has she dainty feet ; 
But every word she ever said, 

Was a message pure and sweet; 
Her mind is broad and active, 

With depths that few can know, 
W^hich makes her more attractive. 

That prettiest girl I know. 



72 



THE BRTDGE OF DESPAIR. 

1 stood on the bridge and listened 

For the voices I used to know, 
And shuddered at the angrv waters 

That thundered on the rocks below ; 
The creaking timbers nuittercd 

To the night winds, "who goes there?" 
And the password despondency answered, 

"A soul on the bridge of despair." 

I paced through the long dark passage, 

Where millions have trodden before. 
And sighed for the sound of footsteps, 

That are heard on earth no more. 
The mouldering planks have loosened, 

'Xeath loads of sorrow and care 
And sadly they groan the old signal : 

"A soul on the bridge of despair." 

I peered through the long black rafters. 

That time had shifted apart 
And wondered if their slanting shadows 

Could shelter a broken heart. 
The night bird's shriek from the distance, 

Is borne on the midnight air. 
And the tempest in answer is calling, 

"A soul on the bridge of despair." 



73 



WHAT WAS HIS CREED? 

I know a man, a model man, 

That labors day by day, 
And always does the best he can, 

His honest debts to pay ; 
What faith had he to guide him well, 

I do not know I can not tell ; 
What was his creed down here below, 

I can not tell, I do not know. 

He never drank or beat his wife. 

Nor temperance did he preach. 
But bravely faced the storm and strife, 

A higher goal to reach ; 
What rule had he to guide him through, 

I can not tell, I never knew; 
How planned this man tO' live so well, 

I do not know, I can not tell. 

He always told unerring truth. 

No matter what the cost. 
For which he could from early youth 

Not count the friends he lost. 
What creed or ism helped this man, 

I never told, I never can ; 
What plan had he to help him so, 

I can not tell, I do not know. 



74 

IX GRANDFATHER'S DAY. 

Deep clown in the forest I traveled one day. 

In search of some labor misfortune to pay, 

iUit the timber and soil where j^Tandfather trod, 

Plad all been dispoiled by the ax and the hod : 

Yet vines were more tangled and the forest more wild, 

Then when my own father was only a child ; 

And wolves without number T met on the way, 

ATethinks were more hunory than in ^grandfather's day. 

Far out on the i)lains I started to roam. 

And search all in vain for a broad acre home, 

For father's old claim that was once a half section. 

Was covered with fences in every direction : 

Aly brothers and sisters, wirn cuildren o-alore, 

] ivecl each on nn acre with room for no more; 

While the debts of misfortune too heavv to paw 

■\Iethinks were more plenty than in g-randfather's day. 

1 climbed to my room far up in a flat 
To stud}- a bit and find where I was at ; 
Murder and suicide in the evening" new^s 
Panics and politics with different views. 
Deep down in the forest far out on the plams. 
There's trouble in waiting for he who complains ; 
So here's to the heart that strug"gles to stav 
Tn the land that was better in grandfather's dav. 



75 



GRANDFATHER'S WELL. 

When I was a boy 

Down on the farm, 
In the long summer days 

When the weather was warm, 
Just how much I drank 

I could never quite tell 
Of the cold sparkling- water 

From grandfather's well. 

How that old wooden trough. 

That was hewn from a losf, 
Was sought by the horses 

And even the dog ; 
For they too, knew the worth 

Of the water that fell 
From that huge wooden spout 

At grandfather's well. 

From the cold crystal depths 

Past the rocky bound sides, 
The old bucket bumps 

As upward it glides ; 
And now all my treasures 

I quickly would sell 
For that bucket of water 

From grandfather's well. 



76 



And oft as I struggle 

Through the hot dusty street. 
With memory I banish 

The chist and the heat ; 
And think not of park 

Or cool shady dell, 
But in memory drink freely 

At grandfather's well. 



BED TIME ON THE FARM. 

Father has emptied his pipe in the woodbox and is 
trying to pull off his boots, 

While Johnny astride of the stairrail is engaged in 
shooting the shutes ; 

Grandma has laid down her Bible and is slowly re- 
moving her specks, 

While mother shouts down from the chamber for the 
children to not break their necks. 

Jake has just been to the stable to see that the stock 
is all right, 

And poke down some hay for the horses to feed on 
during the night. 

Carlo stretched out by the woodbox arises wnth a sigh 

and a yawn. 
And knocks down a bundle of stockings that wa^ 

left there for mother to darn. 
He seems to know without telling that he must nnish 

his nap in the barn, 
But pussy curled up by the stove on a mat 
Seems to ihink that the house is the place for a cat. 



11 

So she lays very still and doesn't open her head 
Until the house is locked up and all are in bed. 
And at last when all is arranged and fixed for the best, 
Father winds up the clock and repairs to his rest, 
But when in his bed and all is peaceful and still, 
His wife says "father, just go down stairs if you will 
And bring up the bottle for baby and I wish you would 
give Bennie a pill." 

So arising at once he pulls on his pants 
And down the dark stairway starts to advance, 
He gropes around slowly five minutes or more 
In a desperate search for the back kitchen door. 
And when he at last finds where it is at 
Steps his bare foot on the tail of the cat. 

Then kitty awakes with a howl and a scratch 

That keeps father stepping while lighting a match. 

He is shivering with cold as he opens the door 

And walks on his heels across the cold kitchen floor ; 

He finds baby's bottle in a basket of clothes 

And mutters with a groan as he curls up his toes, 

Where the blame pills are, nobody knows. 

But at last he discovers the little white box 

And says that the next time he will put on his socks ; 

So the search being ended he proceeds with a will 

To give baby her bottle and Bennie his pill ; 

Then all being well and good night being said 

He crawls once again in his comfortable bed. 



78 



GETTLVG READY FOR CHURCH. 

Yoke up the oxen, Jacob 

And do it right away, 
For there's goin' to be a meetin' 

At the old cross roads to-day. 

Elder Jenks is doin' the preachin' 
And they say he makes things hum, 

And he'd be mighty disa'pinted, 
H none on us should come. 

So grease the wagon up a bit 
And fill the box with hay, 

Just put the old box seat in front, 
And fix it so 'twill stay. 

Now, Joseph, you go feed the pigs, 
And shut the hens up tight, 

Or them infarnel weasles 

Will have 'em all 'fore night. 

Come, Caleb, you and Nathan, 
Go get on }'our Sunday pants. 

And git yer kindlin' split fer night 
While you got the chance. 

And Miranda, you and Julia 
Had better stay with Jack, 

So's to have the pot a bilin' 
If we bring the parson back. 



79 



Now Ma, just hurry on your duds. 
And don't be fussin' with your hair 

For if you do much putterin' 
It'll be noon afore we're there. 

You know the school house 

Is most a mile beyond the creek, 

So git the yung'uns ready 
And do it dreful quick. 

['11 go git my Sunday boots 
And soak 'em up with taller. 

For their gittin' middlin' crusty 
And the toes are kinder yaller. 

But if I rub the pesky things 
And straighten up the tops. 

Guess they'll sorter do me, 
Till arter I git in my crops. 

Say, ma did you notice. 

In the last Sunday's meetin'. 

When the sinners was gittin' 
Such an allfired beatin', 

And the parson w^as pintin' 
At the brothers and sisters. 

How ole uncle Ben started coughin' 
And pullin' his wiskers ? 



8o 



Well ma here's the wagon, 
So take the front seat 

And Cyntha and Sarah 
Can sit by }our feet. 

And yon, Joseph and Jacob. 

Can sit in behind. 
And Nathan and Caleb 

Take any place yon find. 



MEMORIES OF LOXCz AGO. 

Far away o'er the hilltops 

Where the sun is sinking low 

Is a cottage in the valley 
Where I wandered long ago. 

Oh, how well do I remember 
That old pathway on the hill ; 

I can see old Rover running 

And almost hear him barking still. 

I can hear the squirrels chatter 

As they scamper through the brush, 

And hear old Rover panting 
As he passes with a rush. 

Then I see the dear old pasture 
Where the sheep and cattle fed. 

And the meadow with its grasses 
Full of berries rich and red. 



8i 



How we made our fing-ers fly 
Picking berries, Kate and I, 

Then rushing home to mother, 
How we teased for berry pie. 

1 remember dear old Rover 

With that pleased and knowing look, 
When he saw me take my shoes off 

And start down toward the brook. 

How my anxious heart would flutter 
As my hook sank out of sight. 

And to Rover I would mutter 

■'Just keep back wdiile fishes bite." 

Wlien school was out and books laid by, 

1 remember well how Kate and I 

Would lay our plans for future days 

And long for city life and ways ; 

Ah, sorry dreams of discontent 

How soon their pleasures all were spent. 



THE SILENT PARTY. 

There's a party to-night at the farm house. 
The place where we all used to go, 

But the guests in the parlor are silent 

And the fire in the grate has burned low. 



82 



The hostess no longer is waiting 
To weleonie her guests at the door, 

For their Portraits He still on the table 
And their voices ring out no more. 

The wind whistles down the old chimney 

And spitefully rattles the grate, 
While the hostess in dreamland is listening 

To the sleigh-bells that halt at the gate. 
The old clock on the mantle strikes loudly, 

While the snow sifts in at the door. 
And grandma repairs to her chamber 

To dream of her loved ones once more. 



GRANDFATHER'S SHOES. 

Away up in the garret 

In an old wooden chest 
]s a pair of old shoes 

That are not of the best. 
Yet more dear to my heart 

Than nuggets of gold 
Are grandfather's shoes 

All covered with mould. 



As I shake ofif the dust 

From the coarse leather strings, 
There's a lump in my throat 

That fond memory brings. 



83 



For 1 think of the times 
That I laced them for him 

When his hands were all trembling 
And his eyes growing dim. 

I can hear those old shoes 

As he tramped through the hall, 
With a dime from his chest 

To buy me a ball. 
Or hear him tread loudly 

To assist when I fell ; 
In fact, there's no end 

To the good things they tell. 

And now in the garret 

I)}- that dingy old chest, 
I sigh for the friend 

That my childhood loved best ; 
And the silence that prevails 

Oft gives me the blues 
For all that is left 

Is grandfather's shoes. 



MY AIERRY OLD MAID. 

When T was young, I could often be seen 
Courting the maidens of sweetest sixteen. 
At parties and balls they were never content 
Until I had scjuandered my very last cent, 



84 

Then bade me politely a very good night 
And dance with another until it was light. 
But now I've a darling that's trusty and staid, 
My cheery old, deary old, merry old maid. 

Good-bye, little girl with the roguish eye, 
That only smiles while passing by, 
For never again will I laugh and scoff 
At the maid with the smile that doesn't. come off. 
Oh, some are for beauty and some are for gold, 
Some hurry and worry for fear they'll get old. 
But here's to the heart that refuses to fade, 
IVIy darling old, charming old, merry old maid. 

Oh, dear little bundles of beauty and pride , 
How oft have I wandered along by your side. 
And wrangled with rivals of every known kind, 
Until they would steal you and leave me behind. 
Then away without waiting for another fair face 
Whose suitors had faltered and failed in the race. 
But now, I have hastened where others delayed 
And caught my old, pretty old, merry old maid. 



SIXGLE BLESSEDNESS. 

I once knew a bachelor who lived at his ease. 

With no children to cry or wife to displease. 

At the close of the day he would pull off his shoes 



85 

And indulge a half hour in reading' the news ; 
Or if lie wished entertainment of a different type, 
Curled up on the couch and lighted his pipe. 

Yet he never quite knew all the comfort he took 
u ntil he turned over a leaf in the matrimonial book ; 
Then he awoke to the positive and unpleasant fact 
That his comforts in life had been suddenly sacked, 
For milliners, dressmakers and collectors a score 
Were knocking continually at the poor fellow's door. 

The children are crying from morning till night 
Until his poor wife is so nervous she is ready to fight, 
And when the children are spanked and tucked in their 

beds 
He finds his newspaper torn into shreds, 
So he sits down by the stove and indulges in the blues 
While he studies how to get his next pair of shoes. 

The wife becomes sickly and worries her life 

h'or the children that are constantly engaged in some 

strife ; 
The man struggles on the best that he can 
While the boys speak lightly of their crabbed old man. 
Old age is industrious and seldom will shirk — 
But who grooms the horse that is too old to work? 



86 



THE JOLLY OLD BACH. 

When all are weary and interest fades 
In merry widows and poor old maids, 
If ma-in-laws would rest in peace, 
The bachelors then are the next to fleece ; 
But woe to the hen that waits for a bug 
That this old rooster has scratched and dug ; 
For coaxmg and clucking can never unlatch 
The heart of this jolly old, merry old bach. 

When the bachelor calls on a shy little maid 
Whose papa is poor with debts never paid, 
He plays without ceasing when offered a ch^ir 
With a crying baby and Teddy bear ; 
Lentil mamma sees auntie glance over her specks. 
Then taking the baby she seems to detect 
That love for her daughter, no angel could hatch 
In the heart of that wary old, merry old bach. 

f^leasc hasten old bach to some region remote. 
For the ladies they tell me are learning to vote ; 
And soon will collect an old bachelor's tax 
If they don't get the law where the chicken did the 

axe. 
So hasten away if you must live alone. 
Or pay for the cradle that's none of your own ; 
For then the large families would not wear a patch 
But live on the tax of the merrv old bach. 



87 



THE ONE-EYED MARE. 

I have heard of mules and stubborn hogs, 
Of crying babies and barking dogs, 
But any of these could not compare 
With Deacon Jones' one-eyed mare. 

Her limbs were strong and her body fat 
And her lowest kick would reach your hat, 
The deacon's pate is void of hair, 
Since he touched the whip to the one-eyed mare. 

Her eye spoke plainly of the will within 

To yank the deacon out of his skin. 

And' the deacon's rage would burn and flare, 

Like the light in the eye of the one-eyed mare. 

Her heels were shod and fixed aright, 
And all they touched went out of sight, 
And without the deacon, no one dare 
To ride behind the one-eyed mare. 

In a pouring rain the mare would balk 
And make the deacon get out and walk. 
While he scattered language here and there. 
Intended only for the one-eyed mare. 

He referred to a place as he plied the lash 
Where snow and water never clash. 
And loudly swore he did not care 
How quick it held the one-eyed mare. 



88 



He stamped and thrashed until he fell 

And consigned the mare where I dare not tell, 

And for all I know he still is there 

With all thats' left of the one-eved mare. 



WHEX COMPANY CAr^IE. 

At home on the farm when mother and I 

Were tired and nervous and ready to cry. 

We both went about in the greatest of haste. 

For a moment on Sunday we never could waste ; 

If mother was sick she dare not complain, 

For this was the day that our company came. 

Occasional company we loved to receive, 
If they wouldn't forget when the time came to leave; 
But when a huge lumber wagon drove up to our bars, 
And mother had the headache until she saw stars, 
Then from quiet and rest we both must refrain. 
For this was the day that our company came. 

When poor father went out to welcome the load, 
Behold ! another team turned in from the road ; 
And the dog crept away as still as a mouse. 
To escape from the children, under the house ; 
And mother said sadly there was no one to blame 
For the crying of babies when company came. 



89 

Mother's head was tied up with a white cotton rag, 
While the children were teasing or else playing tag ; 
Four horses stood munching their grain in the barn, 
While our stock was scattered all over the farm. 
Even Old Peggy, the horse that was lame, 
Was robbed of her stall when company came. 

The children had clogged the old pump with a stick, 
And water for dinner must be brought from the creek ; 
So father and I started out with our pails 
And clambered o'er fences of boards and of rails ; 
Yet poor father's temper seemed quiet and tame, 
For he liked to be friendly when company came. 

We filled up the kettles and finally a tub. 
For the children had clothes they surely must rub ; 
So we sti'u;ggred and panted for an hour or more. 
And filled all the tubs by the back kitchen door ; 
The noise of the children would drive you insane, 
For each one was hungry when company came. 

The little gray kitten in its agony cries, 
While the babies crow loudly and dig out its eyes ; 
And the babies' young mothers think it very unkind 
If I object to my kitties being mauled until blind ; 
Then poor mother came in with that look of disdain 
That she tried to keep covered when company came. 



90 

And when supper was over and we lighted the lamp, 
Some of the children were croupy and some had a 

cramp ; 
So it took little urging", considering their plight, 
To persuade the two families to stay over night ; 
And when it was decided that they all would remain. 
We commenced making beds for our company that 

came. 

From cellar to garret, through every old trunk, 
W'e searched out the bedding for each one a bunk ; 
From parlor to kitchen and even out in the shed. 
We stowed away children and put them to bed. 
Until beneath every blanket when the lights became 

dim 
Was stirring or snoring a her or a him. 

Down in the parlor quite late in the night. 
One stepped on another and started a fight ; 
They tipped over the table in lighting a lamp. 
And found one of the babies curled up in a cramp ; 
Then mother got up and went down to explain 
What to do for the babies of our company that came. 

When morning had dawned and breakfast was had. 
Poor mother looked weary, yet I knew she was glad ; 
And when they were gone, we laid out our plans 
For clearing the parlor of dishes and cans ; 
For it took us a week to get over the strain 
Of that one day and night when company came. 



91 

WAITING. 

Waiting, waiting day after day, 
Waiting and sleeping the time away 
Waiting for father to do the chores 
Waiting for mother to shut the doors. 
W^aiting for sister to bring him his book, 
Waiting for goodies brought from the cook, 
Waiting for all his heart's desires, 
Waiting for brother to build all the fires. 
Waiting for this and waiting for that 
Waiting for someone to find his hat 
Waiting for baby to dry his tears 
So mother can wash his neck and ears. 
Waiting at manhood's opening race, 
W^aiting for someone to give him their place. 

Waiting, waiting day after day, 

Waiting and sleeping the time away 

Waiting for wife to earn the bread 

Waiting at noonday still in bed, 

Waiting and whining to get some more sleep. 

Waiting for wife to learn baby to creep. 

Waiting for morning, and waiting for night, 

Waiting and sleeping with all of his might. 

Waiting for someone to help him get rich. 

He sticks to the landlord like seven year itch. 

Waiting until time will wait no more, 

Waiting for a place on the golden shore. 

And if he is still in a waiting condition, 

I fear he will lose the last chance in perdition. 



92 

THE UXSEEX WORLD. 

In all this world of creatures 

That struggle in ceaseless din 

How little is seen on the surface 

Of the spirit that dwells within 

Oh depths unfathomed, worlds unseen, 

Where is the barrier that stands between ? 

]\Iust the coat of flesh that hides the soul 

Be cast aside to reach the goal ? 

Or do the keys that seal our fate, 

Lie rusting at the mystic gate? 

Countless stars shine out at night 
And then recede again from sight, 
Countless minds so bright and clear 
Have passed away that once were here. 
Our nearest friends that come and go 
We do not see or even know. 
'Tis but the spirits mask we've known, 
LTntil in death it to has flown 
Where then perhaps the soul is free. 
And needs no eves of flesh to see. 



THE SADDEST OF ALL. 

There's sorrow and sadness that's lifted 
Ere the heart can scarce feel its fall. 

But the sorrow in silence that's drifted, 
Ts the saddest and deenest of all. 



93 

There's sorrow and sadness that hovers 
O'er the soul for one fleeting hour, 

But the sorrow that pride often covers 
Is the fire that withers the flower. 

There's sadness that's drowned forever 

In tears of repentance that faU, 
But the sadness we cover most clever, 

Is the sorrow that's saddest of all. 

There's the tempest that startles the pilot, 

With billows so mighty and tall. 
But the whirlpool beneath that is silent, 

Is the strongest and deepest of all. 

There's the soul from which hope has departed, 

Whose joys no man can recall. 
Since it scaled and never imparted 

Its sorrow that was saddest of all. 



AW^AKE. 



Awake weary world from thy dismal dreams, 

/Vrouse ere thy vision becomes what it seems. 

Shake off thy shackles so rusty and old, 

That the clang of thy chain is muflled with mould. 

Arise for the death dew is paling thy brow 

And the vermin of riches is consuming thee now, 

That vision of torment that has troubled thy mind 

Has fulfilled its mission and seeks for its kind. 

So beware of thy dreams of a hideous past 

And in thy (lod given mind, just form a new cast. 



94 



COURAGE. 



Kroni the untutored infant to the Hmits of man's mind 
There is nothing so useful as eourage, to mankind, 
And if one has no courage at hfe's earhest morn 
It were hetter, far better, to have never been born. 

Courage is the key to all we desire. 

Courage finds a way to all we aspire 

And even when struggling in tiie deepest of gloom 

It opens the way and gives us more room. 

Oh give us the courage that knows no defeat, 
For without it our life is never complete ; 
(jive us the courage that will ease our last breath, 
And tide us clear over to that life after death. 



FLOWERS. 



Flowers, flowers, beautiful flowers, 

All of their beauty and fragrance is ours ; 

They bloom in the meadow and out in the field. 

And the valley is rich with a bountiful yield : 

Bright blooming flowers in the valley's green glades 

Soon lose all their beauty in evening's dark shades. 




95 

Some bloom in the morning- and wither at night, 
Some bloom in the forest far out of sight, 
Flowers for the lover, flowers for the bride, 
Flowers for the casket with a loved one inside, 
The bunch of sweet roses so rich and rare 
Will soon be but a bush all thorny and bare. 

We plant them in the church yard on graves of the 

dead, 
We present them to the sick that languish in bed ; 
They are found at the prison in the dreary old cell, 
A token of love for the sick and the well. 
Ah, beautiful Bowers that bloom in the meadow, 
How soon they are hidden in evening's dark shadow. 



SOAIERODY'S MOTHER. 

Somebody's mother, old and gray. 
Struggling alone at the close of day, 
Somebody's mother worn and old, 
Drifting from earth to the gates of gold. 

Somebody's mother, long years ago, 
With sparkling eyes and cheeks aglow ; 
But, alas ! she is feeble and old to-day, 
Somebody's mother is passing away. 



96 



Somebody's mother, with tottering step, 
StruggUng with age that has over her crept ; 
Somebody's mother in the church yard alone. 
Known hx the letters inscribed on a stone. 



MEDITATION. 



In health a monarch, in sickness a slave, 
In death a beggar at the brink of the grave, 
In wealth an example that is sought by all. 
In death a struggle and a mighty fall, 
in life a bigot with a church of my own. 
In death only dust in the church yard alone. 

In a mansion of splendor with its glittering walls 

Are servants in waiting to answer my calls, 

The world has few treasures I can not hold. 

And the most of its pleasures to me have grown old. 

The whole world of attractions at my beck and call, 

Oh, how can 1 die and leave them all ! 

Mv children have grown from infants to men, 

And are traveling even now where my footsteps have 

been, 
To the joys of this world I have just learned the way, 
But, alas [ my dark hair is sprinkled with gray, 
And all plans for the future have suddenly ceased, 
For 1 see I must die in the midst of the feast. 



97 



ANTICIPATION. 

Of all the joys of the human heart. 
And all the pleasures that we take a part, 
Up and down through all creation, 
is there any joy like anticipation? 

The boy enjoys in thought and plan 
The glorious days when he's a man ; 
He wins success in every form. 
Anticipation, sunshine reality, storm. 

Tlie maiden bright with cheeks aglow, 
Will rock her dollies to and fro, 
Until the hopes of youth are gone, 
And lo, her pleasures, too, have flown. 

l"he man that lives m a humble cot 
Will build a mansion on his lot. 
But oft misfortune lurks around 
Until the cot has tumbled down. 

The weary wife lives on for better years, 
While anticipation dispells her fears. 
Until old age creeps slowly on, 
Then earthly joys and hopes are gone. 

The lad autl the maiden, the husband and wife, 
Find little enjoyment in the reality of life ; 
In all happy lives from youth to old age 
Anticipation is written on every page. 



98 



THE TEMPEST WITHIN. 

1 stood on the verg-e of a crater 

And peered down its molten walls. 
Wondering" how long since the lava 

Had surged through its unknown halls ; 
I climbed o'er the rocks and boulders 

Where the roaring furnace had been, 
And wondered at the terrible power 

That had surged from the tempest w'ithin. 

I walked through the halls of a madhouse 

And studied each haggard face, 
Wondering where their minds had traveled 

Ere the}- faltered and fell in the race ; 
I watched the eyes that were glaring 

Where reason once had been. 
And shuddered as I thought of the tempest 

That nnist have been raging within. 

] strolled through the haunts of the gambler 

And glanced at each shrewd face, 
Wondering how much of a fortune 

Would be lost at the end of the race ; 
And thought as I watched every motion 

How quiet the game could begin. 
And wondered how each one could smother 

I'he terrible tempest within. 



99 

I walked through the gates of the prison 

And surveyed its massive walls, 
Wondering how many bright futures 

Had drifted to its dreary halls, 
I peered through the grates at a criminal 

Whose features were haggard and thin. 
And trembled as 1 thought of the terror 

Of the tempest that was raging within. 

I have seen wild storms on the ocean 

And sailed Tempestuous seas. 
But the mind in its silent commotion 

Knows storms that are much worse than these ; 
Of all the storms I have heard of 

In all the places I've been. 
The storm most hard to get rid of 

Is the tempest that rages within. 



MUSIC. 

Oh music, sweet music, 
When it falls on our ears. 

How (juickly it lightens 
The burdens of years. 

Loud bursts of music 
That thunder and roll. 

How they quicken the heart 
And awaken the soul. 



TOO 



Sweet strains of music 

So soft and so clear, 
How it deadens our sorrow 

And drives away fear. 

Music in the church 

Where the choir softly sings, 
Music in the ball room 

From the keys and the strings. 

Sad dreary music 

That echoes and chants. 
As the dark hearse and horses 

Are seen to advance. 

Music to cheer us 

While facing the foe, 
Music is needed 

Wherever we 2:0. 



AIR CASTLES. 



I built a castle in the air, 
I built it high and strong, 

But no eyes but mine could see it there 
(")r help my dream along. 



lOI 



I traced a picture on the wall 
And marked its features well, 

But whether man or animal 
The critic could not tell. 

At every trade I heard about 

I plied my ready hand. 
And tried my best to fight it out 

Where labor was in demand. 

1 fought misfortune right and left. 
Nor sought to trace its birth. 

Until at last its awful heft 

Bore me struggling down to earth. 

I then arose and looked around 

To study well each foot of ground, 

And step no more on any sand 
1 cannot see or understand. 



PRIDE. 

A bird from its nest started up one day 
And sailed with the vigor of youth away. 
Its song was tender and its heart was gay 
In the pride of its youth and gorgeous array 



I02 

No bird in the forest could hardly compare 
With its feathers, bright colors so rich and so rare, 
Its course was uncertain as it flew here and there 
Without knowledge to avert the simplest snare. 

After showing its feathers to the birds it liked best 
Its wings became weary and sought after rest ; 
For its beauty as }'et had failed in its quest 
So it fluttered back home to its mother's old nest. 



It went right to sleep without doing a thing, 

And slept until morning wdien it heard the woods ring, 

For its mother was up and had started to sing 

So it waited for mother its breakfast to briug. 



After restmg its wings and eating its fill 
It started again with its proud haughty wall, 
And Hew boldh' down on the bridge by the mill 
Where a cat had been waiting all silent and still. 



The bird is admiring its feathers that gleam 
As it struts back and forth in the sun on a beam, 
The cat pounces dow^i on its vain self esteem 
And a bunch of bright feathers floats down in the 
stream. 



I03 

UNSPOKEN WORDS. 

Unspoken words stored up in our minds, 
Imprisoned expressions of different kinds, 
P'orming a tempest as mist forms the clouds. 
And, alas, often reaping a harvest of shrouds. 

Unspoken words when a life is at stake, 
Concealed in a fort that no man can take. 
Expressions concealed by a friend at our side, 
Plans that were shapen and never applied. 

E'nspoken words, that flash through our brain. 
Of anger and strife that we scarce can retain ; 
Expressions of love that we sometimes hold fast. 
Until from this world a dear one has past. 

Words vvdthout number that are better unsaid. 
Held in our brain as the grave holds its dead ; 
Good mtentions as many as the sands on the beach 
That never have found their expression in speech. 



THE SPIES SOLILOQUY. 

When the sun goes down to-night 

I'll be many miles away. 
Skulking through the dreary brushwood 

Where the many outposts lay ; 



I04 



CrawHnt^ through the muddy (htches, 
Huhug 'ueath their tangled vines, 

While evening's darkest shadows 
Pass me through the armies' lines. 

Wdien the stars recede from sight 

In the early morning's dawn, 
ril be back beneath my blankets 

Ere they know that 1 am gone ; 
When the valley loudly echoes 

With the bugles early call, 
I'll be there to hear the orders 

And to sketch them one and all. 

When again the evening shadows 

Settle o'er each hill and dale, 
1 will have their plans of battle 

(Jr lie dead within the vale ; 
lUit I must cease this idle dreaming. 

For the sun is out of sight. 
And the foe will soon be routed 

if 1 get their plans to-night. 



WHEN AEL IS LOST. 

Arise, misfortune and cruel fate. 
Bring forth thy book and do not wait. 
Deceive me not with prospects fair, 
For I feel thy presence in the air. 



105 



So bring the book you broug-ht before, 
And turn its weary pages o'er, 
Until you reach the last dark leaf 
And there record my deepest grief. 

Come all the debts that man can owe. 
Come, kindest friend and fiercest foe. 
Nor stop to count thy heavy cost. 
For I fear ye not when all is lost. 

Bring forth thy book, so worn and old 
That every page is sealed with mould, 
And tear apart each yellow leaf 
That served as shroud for some belief. 



Come all my kin in envy spite, 
Come, feast with me, I'm down to-night. 
And if grudge or hatred fills thy heart. 
The feast is spread, come take a part. 

Fill to the brim each flowing bowl 
And drink to the memory of a fearless soul. 
For FU die like a soldier at his post 
And tremble not when all is lost. 



io6 



STORM. 

Oh, ye wild and fearless monarch, 

Wielding- in thy mighty hand, 
Power to lash thy every subject 

And enforce thy fierce command, 
Make the very planet tremble, 

Make the sun recede from sight, 
Then with thunders loudest rumble. 

Laugh with lightning at our fright. 
Race with planets, play with oceans. 

Lash the waves to the rocky beach, 
Wreck the ships and drive the sailors 

From the life boats out of reach. 

Mighty winds and rushing waters, 

Storm tossed seas mid lightning's glare, 
Let me hear the tempest raging, 

Let me feel it in the air. 
For dull silence is oppressive 

To my weary fettered brain. 
Let me hear the thunders roaring. 

Let me feel the cooling rain. 
Rush, ve winds, o'er land and ocean. 

Ever restless, wild and free. 
Causing life and grand commotion. 

Instilling life in even me. 



I07 

DESPONDENCY. 

Oh why do the clouds hang so gloomy and low, 
And where are the pleasures, I once used to know, 
Oh where can I fmd them, where did they go. 
And why should the world have treated me so? 

How long have I searched for a rift in the clouds, 
How long have my prospects been garbed in white 

shrouds ; 
Oh why has my courage all crumbled to dust 
And the key of my hopes all turned into rust? 

My steps are uneven and are wont to go slow, 
And the lights of the city all seem to burn low ; 
My senses seem sinking my mind seems a blank 
Since they said that my sweetheart was on the ship 
when it sank. 



DISCONTENT. 



I walked in the garden 
At the close of the day. 

And sighed for the sunshine 
As it faded away. 

I tossed on my bed 

In the dead of the night, 

And sighed for the morning 
With its first ravs of light. 



io8 



I awoke and the night 

Had stole softly away, 
And I yawned as I thought 

Of the cares of the day. 

I walked in the garden 

In the heat of the day. 
And sighed for the dew-drops 

That had faded away, 

I walked through the meadow 

I strolled through the field, 
And desired for the future 

A more bountiful yield. 

A child sought for knowledge 

And sighed as it went. 
A man with his wisdom on riches was bent. 

And the mother of all w^as discontent. 



CONTRAST. 



Listen to the birds that warble in spring 
When all nature is happy and starting to sing. 
Listen to the blast that howls through the trees 
When the flowers have withered and started to freeze. 



109 

listen to the brook as it gurgles along, 
Down toAvard the sea with its lullaby song, 
Listen to the breakers as they roar on the beach 
And carry the shipwreck far out of reach. 

Listen to the child as it shouts in its glee 
And races with playmates so happy and free. 
Listen to grandpa as he raps with his cane 
On the Iloor by his chair to give vent to his pain. 

Listen to our prospects when our spirits run high 
And the dangers of life all seem to pass by. 
Listen to the bell as it tolls o'er and o'er, 
And the dark hearse and horses stand in front of the 
door. 



NO TIME TO WEEP. 

When hope seems to vanish 

And recede from our sight, 
When friends seem to fail us 

And foes all unite, 
Then away with the sorrows 

That over us creep 
And awake to quick action, 

For there's no time to weep. 



no 



When our hearts are half broken 

By cares of the day 
And the debts of misfortune 

Are too heavy to pay, 
If our sentinels forget us 

And all go to sleep, 
Let's arise and go forward, 

For there's no time to weep. 

If the battle is lost 

And we are left on the field, 
Better fight when we're down 

Than weaken and yield, 
If the blood on the field 

Flows crimson and deep. 
Let's struggle the harder. 

For there's no time to weep. 

When the body has weakened 

And is struggling with death, 
Let's use all our wisdom 

To ease its last breath. 
For when the soul has to climb 

Death's mountain so steep. 
All the power of man 

Can give no time to weep. 



Ill 

ONLY A DREAM. 

Visions of rapture to drive away tears, 

Delusions and dreams to banish our fears, 

Dreams we oft cherish with our last fleeting breath, 

Only to perish at the summons of death. 

We grasp in a moment at every new theme 

And sigh when we find it is only a dream. 

Sinking to earth and gasping for breath, 

An old lady is struggling alone with death ; 

Her mind flashes back through the years that have 

flown 
And recalls for an instant the joys she has known. 
She clutches the jewels in her necklace that gleam 
And sighs as she says it is only a dream. 

Racked with pain and worn with care. 
Sits a trembling old man in his easy chair ; 
Thinking of wealth he has gained in the past, 
Yet finding no treasure that always would last. 
He sighs as he says life is not what it seems, 
And drifts far away from the worlds fickle dreams. 



WHERE AND WHY? 

Why is a father so proud of his son 
When death holds a mortgage on the life just begun? 
Why is a mother so proud of her boy 
That she forgets the dark hearse he must some day 
employ ? 



IT2 

What lias tlie curls on a well shapen head 
To do with the soul when the body is dead? 
Where is our pride when this life has passed by 
Where is it buried, and why? 

WMiy are rich £(arments so cleverly applied 
To fit the fair features of a prospective bride? 
Where is her pride when youth has passed by 
Where has it vanished, and why ? 

W'hy do we try to cover life's sorrows, 
Oh why not prepare and beware of the morrow ? 
When the ship is in darkness, why claim it is fair, 
For wh\' should it help us, and where ? 

Why do strong" men with their health in its bloom 
Play games like a child, while they drift to their doom? 
Why should custom and fancy lead us all here and 

there 
Why are we tempted, and where ? 



THE BIRD WITH A BROKEN PINION. 

The bird with a broken pinion, 

The ship with a broken sail, 
Like the heart of a human being 

That has faced the fiercest gale. 



113 



The bird with a broken pinion, 
When the wound begins to heal, 

Will start anew with a course more true 
And never yield to the narrow field, 

But sail clear through 

To fields that others never knew. 

The ship with a broken sail, 

When once repaired is not compared 

To a pleasure boat so weak and frail 
That never faced an ocean gale. 

The human heart so old and scarred, 
That never played a winning card 

Will still beat on through storm and strife, 
While many weaklings pass from life. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



Loving friendship, kind and true, 

Will cheer us on and help us through 

But, alas ! where most applied this much used word 

Is void of meanin^r and most absurd. 



'j^ 



When fortune smiles day after day, 
Our friends are thick along the way ; 
But when misfortune calls us back, 
Our friends are few along the track. 



114 



Give nie the friend that does not stay 
Because my money makes it pay. 
But clings much closer than before 
When death and want is at my door. 

Give me the friend that does not praise 
]^ly wrong ideas and erring ways. 
But tells in terms both kind and true 
What he would love to see me do. 

Our friends and foes that pass along 
Are apt to sing the self-same song. 
But when a friend is tried and true 
Just cling to him and he will to you. 

Which are our friends that come and go, 
I cannot tell, I do not know : 
Which are the friends that love us well, 
I do not know. I cannot tell. 



BELIEVING. 



Ot ail the words that are used in deceiving 

Is there an}- so useful as the one word believing? 

Believing that a box of one kind of pills 

Will apply to all of our bodily ills. 

Believing that an Indian brought up in the woods 

Is superior to the druggist with all of his goods. 

Believing in signs as many or more 

As could iind room in space outside of the door. 



115 

Believing in the horse that loses the race, 
Beheving in the hound that falls in the chase, 
Believing in a smile on the gambler's face 
While he wins our week's wages so hard to replace, 
Believing we are right when on the wrong track. 
Oft makes a long walk before we get back 
And for all our believing we have to pay toll, 
Except the believing that saves our poor soul 



THAT SILVER LINING. 

I have read of silver lining 
Being found in all the clouds, 

But, alas, cold facts defining, 

Oft proclaim them lined with shrouds. 

I have read of golden harvests 
Where death had lost its sting 

But who in God's most earnest service 
Welcoiues death in any thing? 

I have seen the lives of martyrs 
Who have bartered all for good. 

Shudder at death's chilly waters 
And pray as hard as angels could. 

Give me facts though, cold they seem, 
For all the pleasure I assume 

Will not help me o'er the stream 
Or save me from impending doom. 



ii6 

POVERTY. 

Poverty is honorable so we are told. 

And the root of all evil is said to be gold, 

Now if starving and freezing is good for the soul, 

There must be a paradise beyond the north pole, 

/^nd if gold brings forth such a fatal weed. 

Why struggle so hard to save the seed? 

If Job was living on earth to-day 

And poverty met him on the way, 

I fear his patience would be left in the lurch. 

If he had to wear overalls on going to church : 

For who can deny what every one know^s 

That nine out of ten are judged by their clothes. 



A DISMAL DREAM. 

Out in the garden in a shady nook 
I was pondering and nodding over a book 
The book held three hundred pages or more 
An accurate account of our own Civil War. 
I read of the horrors in this bloody afifray 
Until finally in dreamland I drifted away. 



117 

1 dreamed that I saw at the dawn of the day 

MilHons of warriors in bkie and in gTay. 

The throng was made up of old friends and old neigh- 
bors. 

All drawn up in line with glistening sabers. 

Both sides prayed to God that they might have their 
vva}' 

If they killed all their neighbors in the awful affray. 

The millions of the north all thought they were right, 
The millions of the south thought the Lord helped 

them fight 
The}' fought without fear through the night and the 

day 
And cut down too many to carry away 
So they rolled them in trenches and covered them well 
But how fared their poor souls, can any one tell ? 



THE OTHER FELLOW. 

When the summer sun is brightest 

And no frost is in the air 
When the temperature is lightest 

And the weather all is fair 
Then we hang our wraps and rubbers 

In the clothes press out of sight 
And declare that all are lubbers 

Who the tempest dare not fight. 



ii8 



When misfortune has us fig^hting 

ShoveHng" sand or digging ditch, 
Then we find ourselves dehghting 

In what we'd do if we were rich 
While we lean upon our shovel 

We slowly mop our brow 
And wish the rich were digging gravel 

As we are doins: now. 



•& 



When a losing game is ended 

And we've squandered every red 
Then we're sorry we contended 

To have the other fellow bled 
And when he saunters to the doorwa}' 

Just to get a little air 
We quickly find a leaway 

To proclaim the game unfair. 

When we find our minds too narrow 

To reach the proper path, 
Then we're apt to wheel our barrow 

In the mud of pent up wrath. 
When through our book of knowledge, 

The leaves are turning yellow 
We then condemn the college 

That has taught the other fellow. 



119 

MUSING. 

I stood on the shore of the ocean 
And looked far out o'er its waves, 

Wondering- as I watched their commotion 
How many of the billows were graves. 

I stood on a cliff in the hill tops 
And scanned the broad valley below, 

Wondering how much of its acres 
Was the dust of men long ago. 

I watched from the tower at midnight 

The sparkling stars above, 
Wondering if these were bright stations 

On the road to realms of love. 

I mused as I sat in the silence 

That comes ere the break of the day, 

And wondered how many since midnight 
From earth had drifted awav. 



FROM SHORE TO SHORE. 

When the merry waters ripple 
On life's early morning shore 

List with rapture to the music, 
y\s it echoes from the oar. 



I20 



Haste not boatman to the current 
Lest we pass too quickly o'er. 

Gently hold thy ready paddle. 
Gently drift on morning-'s shore. 



'fc> 



Row me slowly, boatman, slowly 
Down the stream of early time. 

Guide me gently, boatman gently 
Through a bright and sunny clime. 

Boatman, see the sun is beaming 
And the morn will soon be past. 

Grasp, oh grasp thy paddle firmly 
For the boat is speeding fast. 

See the waves are harshly splashing 
Against the boat in dull routine, 

While the stream is slowly deepening, 
And the shore can not be seen. 

Boatman, ply the oar more quickly. 
For the boat is tossing wild. 

Haste, oh haste to the shore of safety, 
With its current slow and mild. 

Boatman, see the sun is sinking. 
So lay down thy weary oar 

While we drift in silent safety. 
To the lights along the shore. 



121 



THE HAUNTED CASTLE. 

I know of a haunted castle 
In a wild and dreary land 

And its walls of clay are shapen 
Just above the sinking sand. 

It is standing on the ruins 

Where old castles stood before. 

And the ghosts of many ages 
Lurk behind its gilded door. 

There are pictures old and dusty 
Clinging to the polished walls 

And the ghosts of by-gone ages, 
Revel through its marble halls. 

In this castle's many chambers, 
There is wealth as yet untold. 

But the doors are locked and bolted 
Just before the chests of gold. 

There's a skylight in the garret 
Where the light could oft be seen, 

If the cobwebs once were scattered 
And the window panes made clean. 

When the ghosts of darkest ages 
Have all been put to flight 

Then the spirit of this castle 
Will have time to search for light. 



122 

THE WEARY SOUL. 

Oh, waves on tlie sea of time's restless tide. 
Drifting through darkness to hfe's other side, 
Rock nie to sleep on thy dark, heaving breast 
And hasten nie quickly to safety and rest. 
Oh, welcome the winds that Cjuicken thy speed 
Where the soul from delusion forever is freed. 
Welcome the gale in the midst of the night 
That carries me on to a region of light. 

The gold that once glittered is tarnished with tears 
And the trademark of time has stamped it with years, 
Hopes that were cherished in years that have flown. 
Like dreams have all perished and left me alone. 
Oh, dreary old Vv'orld of temptation and sin, 
Em weary of iightmg the tempest within, 
So hasten me on to a haven of rest. 
Ere my soul loses hope in the love it possessed. 

Bear me up gently where beacon lights fade 

And toss nie o'er shoals where shipwrecks were made. 

Carry me on through the tempest alone 

Where rocks of contention have never been known ; 

Then out on the sea gliding swiftly along. 

Where the shriek of the wind has turned into song 

And at last when 1 reach eternity's shore, 

The sad sisfhs of sorrow shall cease evermore. 



123 



IS THIS THE LAW? 

An infant awakes and gains its breath 
To start the struggle of hfe with death ; 
For a time, perchance, Hfe wins the day, 
And scatters sunshine on the way. 
It thinks, alas, it loves the world. 
And then, ah then, to death is hurled. 
On time worn paths we pray and plod, 
Is this the law — the law of God ? 

A thousand souls believe and heed 
Some law laid down by ancient creed ; 
They gain and love the spoils of earth 
And spend much time in joy and mirth, 
Until at last with baited breath 
They gasp that time has signalled death. 
To pray and plead beneath the rod ; 
Is this the law — the law of God? 

The soul that thinks at early morn. 
And seeks to learn why man was born 
The mind that strives both day and night 
To find in life some ray of light. 
The heart that knows no law but love 
Nor fights alone for realms above, 
But studies on while biggots plod, 
Such is the law, me thinks of God. 



124 



THE SILENT CITY. 

There is just one kind of city 

Where no creeds are ever known, 
And its streets are always silent 

With its steeples built of stone ; 
There are flowers in its gardens, 

There are pathways old and worn, 
And the stranger's heart that hardens 

Here relents and starts to mourn. 

There are mansions in this city 

But no servants pace their halls. 
And no paupers cry for pity 

Past their silent marble walls ; 
There are newsboys on the corner, 

But their papers all are sold, 
And their feet no longer wander. 

Through the streets in sleet and cold. 



Here all grief and strife is ended 

And no stories are ever told, 
For all beliefs and creeds not blended 

Here must turn to dust and mould ; 
All the forms and all the custom 

That the world has ever known, 
Only wait for time to rust them 

'Neath those silent blocks of stone. 



125 



In this city's justice chamber 

There's but one to plead your case, 
'Tis the one that has the number 

Of every heart in the human race, 
'Tis the power that hath the secret 

Of every throbbing brain, 
And gives gladly when it seeks it 

All the knowledge it can retain. 



WHY SHOULD I CARE AFTER ALL. 

Why should I fear when fortune frowns 

And the world seems cold and drear. 
When foes united stand their ground 

And the end seems strangely near? 
If justice fails to reach its goal 

In this dark w^orld of sin, 
Why should I fear when billows roll 

If the tempest is not within? 
For the master of earth and ruler of space 

That notes each sparrow^'s fall, 
Is reading the heart instead of the face. 

So why should I care after all? 

Wh>' should I frown at streaks of gray 
Tliat are stealing through my hair. 

Or fear when furrows come to stay 
Where once my face was fair? 

'Tis but the garment wearing out 
That chains my soul to earth. 



126 



So why should I fear to turn about 
And seek that grander nobler birth ? 

If my friends despise, forsake me. 
And my highest hopes should fall. 

If my Maker then will take me, 
W^hv should T care after all ? 



SHADOWS OX THE SHORE. 

Shadows on the shore of the sea of space 
Cast from whence no man can trace. 
We move ever restless from the date of our l)irth 
To every known part of this dreary old earth, 
And grasp all the know ledge that comes w^ithin reach 
Until time leads us down to the rocky bound beach ; 
We struggle with time on the rocks of the shore, 
I/ntil eternitv's billow's sav time is no more. 



LOVE. 

I*eace, harmony, power and love. 

From the regions of earth to realms above. 

From youth to old age that slumbers and nods, 

The only pure love is the love that is God's ; 

Of all the thoughts that w^rangle in our minds, 

And all the desires of different kinds. 

From the king in his carriage 

To the footman that plods. 

The only right mind is the mind that is God's. 



127 

PUSSY WHITE AND KITTY GRAY. 

Purring softly as they lay, 
On the hearth rug stowed away, 
Was Pussy White and Kitty Gray. 
Says Kitty Gray to Pussy White 
'Tis cold and stormy out to-night, 
Said Pussy White to Kitty Gray 
From Cook and babe we'll steal away 
And go up chamber to-night and play. 



So Kitty's feet went pit-a-pat. 

As they stole softly past the old black cat, 

For says Pussy White to Kitty Gray, 

Mamma's slept so much to-day 

She might be cross and make us stay. 

So quickly through the door they crept 

And on the stairway softly stepped. 



Until Pussy White heard mamma meow, 

Then swiftly up the stairs they flew. 

And quick as wink went I^ussy White 

In Grandpa's boots far out of sight. 

While Kitty Gray in Grandma's mufif was stowed 

away. 
Meanwhile mamma by the stove 
Looked around and then arose. 



128 



Stretched her Hmbs and then her paws, 
And on the woodbox sharpened her claws ; 
Then she too went up the stairs. 
To catch some niousie unawares ; 
And teach her Kitties right away 
That they must work as well as play. 
So with sharpened claws and keenest scent 
She straightway to the garret went. 

Then meowing low to Pussy White and Kitty Gray 

She bade them follow without delay, 

And when they reached the dusty floor 

Where mamma had hunted oft before. 

She hid them down behind a board 

Where popcorn ears and herbs were stored, 

And warned them not to say a word 

Until a mousie's squeak they heard. 

Then stealing softly step by step, 
To the darkest corners Kitty crept 
Around a trunk beneath a box ; 
With eyes as sharp as any fox, 
Until behind a pile of broken glass 
She saw a mousie slowly pass. 
Then crouching low with bracing feet 
She made one spring just like a streak 
And Kitties heard poor mousie squeak. 



129 



Then rushing forth with all their might 
Came Kitty Gray and Pussy White, 
To learn from mamma what to do 
When they were grown-up Kitties, too ; 
Now little children when at school 
Rememher well the Kitties rule, 
And learn your lessons day by day, 
Then you too, may go and play 
Like Pussy White and Kittv Gray. 



THE BIRD COUNSEL. 

Deep down in the woods away from the breeze 
The birds held a counsel one day in the trees ; 
I'he robin stepped out on a big stocky limb 
yVnd politely requested all to listen to him. 
He stated in terms both convincing and sweet, 
That It gave him great pleasure his bird friends to 
meet. 

He said that the question that was up for debate 

Was a serious problem and sad to relate, 

For said he, all we birds that are very far seeing ^ 

Can see our worst enemy in the young human being; 

Then he spoke in a voice all trembling and sad 

Of the little gray phoebes and the trouble they had. 



I30 

He said that the boys when they found cousin phoebes 
Tore down her nest and killed both of her babies, 
And also a swallow wdiile getting bugs for her young 
Was seriously wounded by a stone that they flung ; 
Then he said, in the field just over the way 
He saw a boy with his gun shoot a pretty blue] ay. 

And now said the robin, I think that we find 

Our wickedest enemies in the sons of mankind, 

For all that we do is to bring them good cheer, 

Yet they stone us the moment we let them come jiear ; 

So 1 motion we all stay high up in the trees 

And each one flv awav when a bov he sees. 



MOTHER MOUSIE. 

Down beneath the granary. 
In a nest of straw and sticks, 

Lived an old mother mousie 
And her little mousies six. 

Up in the grain bin. 

Gnawing through a sack of wheat. 
Was the old mother mousie, 

(lettine babies food to eat. 



131 



Up in the dusty garret, 

Just behind the stairway door, 

Lived an old mother kittie 
And her httle kitties four. 

Down in the granary. 

Climbing o'er the sacks of wheat, 
Searched the okl mother kitty 

To get her httle kitties meat. 

Alousie heard the kittie coming, 
So she hid beneath a sack. 

Where kitty could not catch her 
Or follow on her track. 

Old Rover sniffing slowly. 

Through the granary just for fun. 
Barked and growled at mother kitty 

Until she ceased her search and run. 

So old niousie took her babies 

A good supply of wheat. 
And old Tabbie and her kitties 

Ate potatoes instead of meat. 



MAY 14 1909 



